Absolutely Lovely - A Phanfic
by Autumn Kismet
Summary: Dan's depressed again but he doesn't see it. All he can see is the new guy, the one with the black hair and stunning blue eyes... and that's bad. So bad, because he likes him. But Dan can't be gay. He'll lose his friends and his family, he'll become just like his father, a horrible, disgusting person, and if that's the outcome he's positive that the world is better off without him.
1. Chapter 1

When I was almost five years old, I started Kindergarten. When I was almost twelve, I started at a new school, high school. Technically, I've never been the new kid, not on my own. I've never started school mid-term, nor have I started school alone, so I honestly don't know what it feels like to walk into a classroom by myself and introduce myself to a teacher in front of a crowd of kids my own age watching on as if I'm some kind of spectacle. Yet, this is exactly what the black haired boy at the front of the room has just done. He's tall, taller than me, and he walks with a confidence that I can't quite put my finger on. It's like he's confident in himself, but not the people around him, the only cautiousness he exudes is one toward us, the strangers in his presence. I guess I'd be the same if I were him. He walks down the centre of the room, head held high, and takes a seat, immediately pulling out two pencil cases – who the hell needs more than one pencil case? He proceeds to pull a small book from the second case, does he have notes already? No. No, they're not notes. I look across the room, almost down on him from where I'm sitting, and spy the pictures and splashes of colour between the thickened black lines and intricate patterns. It's a colouring book. My friend, Chris, stifles a chuckle and clearly he's noticed too, I shake my head at him with an amused smirk, letting Chris know that I see it and that I'm about as amused as he is, leaving this weird new kid to colour his book in complete ignorance of what's probably in store for him later as a result.

Why the hell is he always colouring? He literally carries around a colouring book, who does that? No one. Other than him, obviously. He colours in maths, physics, English, and he probably colours in every other class that I'm not in as well. It's embarrassing. It is literally no wonder he winds up battered and bruised, he's a complete loser. His name is Philip Lester and he's been here for what, three days, and how many times has he gotten himself beaten up? Like, four. I would actually bet good money that Chris and Jacob are plotting their next move as he sits there colouring, completely oblivious. Oh, and now he's dropped his pencil. Don't pick it up, Philip, you're just drawing attention to yourself. Fucking hell. Just leave – oh, nope, you're really picking it up now aren't you? Far out…  
"Philip," our English teacher, Mr Tacker, speaks his name, "Can you tell me what I've just said?"

Yeah Philip, can you tell him anything that's gone on this lesson, or were you too distracted by the pretty flowers you're colouring in?  
"Uh," Ah, he speaks! "That the dark version of himself represents his fear of being who he really is, and so when he banishes it, he's unlocking the freedom to be himself without self-ridicule?"  
"Thank you, Philip," Mr Tacker says, flashing him a look that says that he's lucky he wasn't wrong. How did he do that? I'm lucky to get it right even if I'm listening. Philip shoves all his pencils into his pencil case, followed by his little colouring book that seems to fit in there quite perfectly, and as if on cue, the bell rings.

Walking down the hallway toward the school canteen is when I spot the inevitable: Chris and Jacob forcing Philip into the handicap bathroom. Okay, Dan, just breath in and walk by, do not make eye contact. Do not make any eye contact at all. I repeat, do NOT make eye conta-  
Wow, this Philip guy has really shiny blue eyes. They're actually quite stunning, captivating even. Fuck. Eye contact. No. I roll my eyes and break the gaze, continuing my stride toward my regular lunch table. I feel bad, I honestly do, but it's just something that happens to some people. I can't stop, I have friends waiting, and food to eat, assignment or something to help PJ with, and things to think about… But suddenly I'm turning around and walking back down the hallway to the handicap bathroom to rescue the cerulean-eyed loser with the colouring book. I swing the door open just in time witness Jacob executing a swift kick to the black-haired boy's stomach and I swear I can hear the pain in his sudden intake of breath.

"Chris, Peej wanted you near the library," I lie, not addressing the situation before me at all,  
"Shit," Chris turns to face me and Jacob quickly does the same, "C'mon," Chris is speaking again, directing both himself and Jacob out of the small space, and he calls over his shoulder, "Thanks for reminding me, Dan." At least now Chris will be able to help PJ until I get there.  
The second they're out of sight, I shut the door behind me and make the sudden realisation that I don't know what to do. I don't do this. When have I ever helped a stranger? Why am I doing this?  
"Are you… okay?" I manage to ask, immediately regretting doing so because clearly he is not okay. He looks scared. He's not stupid, he knows I'm friends with the people that shoved him in here and left him bruised on the floor, but he nods.

"I'm fine, thanks," he replies, not making eye contact with me. His voice sounds shaken, I think it's because he expects me to hurt him too, not that I've done so since he's come here, but I've certainly made no effort to stop it and… and I encouraged it yesterday. This probably wasn't a good idea, come to think of it.  
"Do you want any help up?" I ask, glancing up at the mirror on the wall and quickly fixing the fringe of my brown hair. He shakes his head, struggling to pull himself into a sitting position with his back against the wall.

"My name's Dan, you're Philip, right?"  
"Phil," he corrects me, I've got to admit that Phil is a lot easier than Philip. How didn't I assume that was his nickname anyway?  
"Phil," I repeat his name, enjoying the way my mouth feels when I say it,  
"Thanks for, uh, stopping… that," he struggles to say to me, looking up at me now with his wide, blue eyes. Now that I'm closer, they have little specks of yellow and they're… why the fuck am I looking so deeply into his eyes? He's going to think I'm a freak, and that I'm more invested in him than I am.  
"You're welcome…" I say, looking up at the flickering ceiling light, "I haven't really asked anyone yet, but what happened for them to think you deserve this?"

"I existed," he states painfully.  
"Okay, I lied. I know everything," I tell him, sitting down beside him and watching as he flinches away the second my arm accidentally brushes against him,  
"Do you now?" he says, regaining what I can assume is his regular composure, a little more confident and sure of himself and what he's saying. Clearly he doesn't want to be the victim. I nod in reply and Phil sighs with a shake of his head before looking at me as though he's telling me to elaborate.

"They took your phone yesterday," I begin to recount to him, and he nods, "Apparently you have some _absolutely lovely_ photos of you kissing some _absolutely lovely_ …" I pause for a moment, letting him prepare himself before I finish my sentence, "Boy."  
"Sounds like an absolutely lovely affair then, doesn't it?" He rolls his eyes, "What and why does it matter?"  
"I dunno, I'm not the one that can't pick themselves up off the bathroom floor," I shrug,  
"So you think I deserve this, then?" and he looks at me properly now, no longer timid or scared in the slightest, but instead as though he's rather disgusted by the idea that I would think it's okay. Not only disgusted, but disappointed, as if he had expected better from me.

Of course he doesn't deserve this for being gay or whatever he is. There's nothing wrong with someone liking the same gender, but he had to expect that this would happen, wouldn't he? Or maybe- I don't know. No one deserves this, especially someone that hasn't done anything wrong in the first place. He's looking at me now through narrowed eyes and I know he's right.  
"No…" I answer, realising I'd been quiet for at least a few seconds too long,  
"Good," is all he says.  
"How did you know you were… _are you gay_?" I fumble with my words and find myself feeling the rush of blood to my cheeks as my eyes are drawn back to his. Fuck.  
"I'm gay," he sighs, "Thanks for actually asking. I knew because I'd always just been attracted to guys, it was weird when we did the whole sexual education crap a few years ago and no one at my catholic school explained that it wasn't a totally weird thing, but after I sort of started embracing it all, I knew I definitely preferred dicks to chicks," he laughs.

His usual demeanour has definitely returned and I laugh with him, a little envious of his ability to make conversation with someone like me in a situation like this.  
"How come you moved here, then?" I ask, running my fingers through my fringe again, making a mental note to stop touching my hair and my face, it's getting weird and he probably thinks… I don't know what he probably thinks, but whatever it is, it's wrong.  
"Expelled," he breathes quietly through his mouth, his soft looking lips moving almost in slow motion before he catches the bottom between his teeth, biting his lip, and I know he's not lying. PJ, my best friend and complete suck up to the office staff, overheard the deputy principal talking to Phil about his previous exclusion on his first day here, unfortunately not able to pick up any actual details. I shuffle slightly, feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden because it takes an awful lot to be expelled from private schools – they're the schools parents pay fair sums of money for their kids to attend, so they're not often kicked out lightly.  
"What'd you do?"

He pauses, clearly catching my uncomfortableness. He just looks at me for a second before his shy, just-short-of-polite, smile curves into a grin.  
"Got caught sucking a guy off in the handicap bathroom after his friends made a poor attempt at bullying me."  
He's fucking with me. He's joking, right? He's got to be fucking with me. That's very, very specific. He can't be serious. I could almost hear the smirk in his words, so he's joking. He's trying to get a reaction out of me. He's doing it on purpose.  
"That sounds like an _absolutely lovely_ experience for you," I answer, purposefully sounding as though I'm not uncomfortable as hell.  
"It _absolutely_ was," he pauses for a second and his attractive smirk graces his face again, " _Lovely_."

Did he just call me "lovely", like a pet name, or compliment thing, or s _omething_ , or was he repeating that I said that it was lovely? He's definitely doing this on purpose now.  
"Lovely is such a weird word," he speaks again with a short laugh and his demeanour has shifted to one much softer, the kind a composure a small child would search for in a person when seeking comfort. "I feel like an old lady with lots of lavender cardigans and an eye for collectable antiques whenever I say it."  
"You're really fucking weird," I murmur just loud enough for him to hear it.  
"I'm aware."

"What's with the colouring book?" I finally dare to ask, my voice sounding slightly as if I'm accusing him of something. Jesus, I really need to work on not sounding like a complete asshole.  
"What's with the denial?" he retorts,  
"Denial?" What's he talking about? He's not making sense.  
"You know what they say," he says, almost as if he's fully aware of just how captivating he really is, as he stands up, brushing off the dirt and lint from the floor, "It ain't just a river."  
With that, he's out the door, shooting me a smile as he leaves me alone on the floor of the handicap bathroom. I'm not in denial of anything… so what, the unqualified fuck, was that? 

Another day, another innocent victim shoved into an unused room of the school by one of my best friends. I watch as Chris wanders over to join PJ and I at our table after witnessing him grab some kid and thrust him inside a random utility closet before he plonks himself down on the picnic table bench-chair-thing across from me,  
"Is it really necessary to shove poor boys in broom closets?" PJ looks up from the stage design he's been working on for his Drama assignment,  
"Yeah," Chris laughs and turns to me, "Oi, Dan?"  
"Mmm?" I look up from picking at the skin around my nails and he begins to talk again.

"Jacob's mate-" Chris starts again before PJ interrupts,  
"Ian?"  
"Nope. Matt."  
"Okay, continue with your gossip," PJ waves his hand dismissively and routes his focus back to his work,  
"Thank you, Peej," Chris replies sarcastically, turning back to me, "Matt says he went to push some kid into the disabled bathroom at the end of lunch yester-"  
And once again Chris is interrupted by PJ,  
"Hey, yeah!" he turns to me as well, "Where were you at lunch yesterday? My whole Wednesday afternoon schedule was thrown off! I was gonna make you help me with my debate homework…"  
"PJ! Would you shut up?" Chris demands, "Anyway, Matt says he pushed the kid in and you were in there… sitting on the floor?"

Well, fuck. Fucking Matt needs to learn to keep his mouth shut, but perhaps staying in there for about twenty minutes after Philip, I mean Phil, had left wasn't such a great idea…  
"Did that Philip Lester faggot give you trouble after we left yesterday?" Chris asks, and I'm brought back to the conversation, realising that I've been silent for far too long.  
"What? No!"  
"Are you sure?" Chris enquires, sparking PJ's interest with his concerned tone. I just nod and project a smile, hoping that's enough to get them to change the topic. "Did something else happen?" he asks me now, and I just shake my head and continue breaking apart my sandwich in front of me.

"What were you doing sitting alone in the handicap bathroom though?" PJ asks, folding his book shut and giving me all of his attention. PJ rarely diverts his attention from his homework at lunch, and Chris seldom sounds legitimately concerned about anyone. I know what this means. They're worried. Again.  
"Dan, is everything alright?" Chris asks, suddenly sounding very serious, I can tell by his tone that he expects a real, probably verbal, answer.  
"Everything is fine," I say with as much conviction as I can muster, "I was just in there because-"  
Why was I in there? I could have gotten up to leave after Phil did, but I didn't. I just sat there like statue, still and silent, until Matt burst in with some tenth form kid.  
"Because?" PJ coaxes me,  
"I don't know. I was talking to that new guy and after he left I guess I just stayed in there…"

PJ crinkles his forehead, he can tell that's out of character for me, except of course when-  
"Are you feeling down again?" Chris asks slowly and delicately as if I could break at any moment. Which I won't. I'm fine. As I was saying, except of course when I'm depressed. I'm lucky I have Chris and PJ, though. They care about me and check up on me, making sure I'm okay now. I try to do the same for them, as they also do for each other, but they don't really give anyone much to worry about.  
"No," I answer quietly, "I'm not." I don't know why, but I suddenly don't feel like talking about it with them anymore.

I'm really quite appreciative of Chris and Peej. Sometimes Chris gets pissed off, he fights with his dad a lot and takes it out on innocent people at school, but that's been going on consistently since he was a kid and we all know that it's mostly because he's a bit of an asshole more so than because he's a "menace" as our principal once called him. Overall, it's easy to detect if there's something serious going on with him. PJ, on the other hand, is pretty stable. He's invested in a lot of creative arts subjects, and if it weren't for the fact that PJ and I had grown up together he'd probably be one of Chris's targets. I know that PJ is thankful for my befriending of the dreaded school bully, not so much as for protection like it used to be when we were twelve, but because Chris and Peej have developed a friendship of their own now. Somehow we all fit together, and somehow it all works with minimal bumps and very occasional issues.

"You'll tell us if something's wrong, yeah?" PJ asks this time and I nod at him with a smile,  
"I promise," I assure him.  
"Are you going straight home after school?" he asks again, pulling his school bag onto his lap and beginning to rummage around in it,  
"Yeah, why?" I ask, fearing the inevitable. He's going to ask me to take his bag home with me.  
"Can you take this?" He thrusts his bag full of text books and who-knows-what-else toward me across the table, "I'm staying back to help with the school musical production stuff," he beams at Chris and I.  
"Fine…" I groan loudly, extending the length of the vowels in the word and taking his stupid, heavy bag from him.

"You're the best," he grins at me, "Thank you."  
"You're such a fucking loser…" Chris castigates him and PJ responds by poking out his tongue. Unable to tolerate much more conversation, I'm hauling PJ's bag over my left shoulder and standing up to leave,  
"See you tomorrow, Chris," I breathe, and he smiles back to me as I turn to head toward the library.  
"Don't I get a good-bye?" PJ calls from behind me, I turn around just in time to be greeted with his playful pout,  
"I'll see you at home, you twat," I laugh,  
"Tell my dad I'll be late?" he begs, and I can see Chris mimicking him on the other side of the wooden table.  
"Yup," I nod and begin attempt number two toward the library.

PJ and I have lived together since we were almost twelve or thirteen, it gets a bit hazy because it was a slow process, not like in movies where everyone moves into a new house in one day. PJ's about six months older than me, but we were born in different years. His mum died when he was two and my dad left when I was seven, I haven't heard from him since then, with the exception of a single letter almost four years ago now . PJ's dad met my mum in our primary school's office when they'd both been called in after I pushed Peej into a creek on a school excursion during a childish argument. We were about seven then too, and not much has changed. I have no regrets about the matter because red cars _do_ , in fact, go faster than every other coloured vehicle. He had to learn somehow. Go on, ask him what the fastest car is and he'll tell you it's the red one. It also might have something to do with his lack of knowledge or interest in cars… I'm choosing to believe it was my doing, though.

After a while, lots of "play-dates" and many afternoons being baby-sat by PJ's dad, my mum got to know him a lot better, and after asking my permission, she agreed to a date with him. Roughly four years later they got married, right before PJ and I started seventh form. It was the most beautiful, incredible wedding I could have imagined, not because my best friend was there and we were going to be step-brothers, and not because of the giant cake, but because of the smile on my mum's face. Jamie, PJ's dad, makes my mum really happy, and he cares about all of us. We're a real family and that means the entire world to me. I love them - my mum, Jamie, PJ, and the cat that lives down the road that PJ feeds sometimes - they're my family.

I continue my walk through the school building and just as I'm about to round the last corner to the library, I walk smack-bang into someone else, sending the both of us crashing to the floor. Suddenly the only thing I can feel is something stabbing into my hip, and I know that whatever it is would pierce the skin were it not for the layers between it and me, at least PJ's bag protects me from his deadly school bag contents.  
"Look, I'm so sorry, I should have watched where I was going and… oh. It's you," a familiar voice speaks before I'm able to look up from the space on my hip that will soon be discoloured. The second I flick my eyes from my side and up to see who it is, my eyes connect directly with his blue ones, locking with them, and for a moment I'm speechless. It's Phil.  
"I, you- I'm… what?" is all that I manage to get out. Fucking smooth, Dan. Well done, you're a regular smooth talker, you are.

"What was that, sweetheart?" he smirks. Sweetheart? SWEATHEART? What the hell?!  
"I, uh… I don't know," I reply, choosing to ignore his latest pet name for me.  
"Hey, are you okay?" he asks, looking at me properly now and changing his tone to one matching that of Chris and PJ's from earlier. Why do people keep asking me that? Do I not look okay? Am I not okay? I don't get it.  
"Do I… do I, um… not look like I'm okay?" I ask hesitantly, and I can suddenly hear the trembling in my voice. That's weird. That's not normal. Maybe I'm not okay. How do I know if I'm not okay? I'm so out of touch with my emotions that not even my inner-monologue is aware of them! Oh, unless it's not actual emotion-emotions. Maybe I have been feeling a little depressed lately… and meaner than usual… Maybe I'm not okay.

"Uh… I don't know how to answer that," Phil answers honestly, "Sorry…"  
"No, no! Don't be sorry, I'm sorry. I'll- I'll get out of your way," I say, standing up and trying to sort out PJ's back-pack.  
"Wait, Dan?" he stops me in my tracks and, unexpectedly, all I want to do is obey him, "You don't look okay," he says this time,  
"Thanks."  
"I don't mean…" he sighs, obviously frustrated and unsure how to continue,  
"Don't worry about it," I smile, "It's all good."  
"Do you have class now?" he asks, reaching to take the bag from my shoulder, and I let him.  
"I have free study," I answer quietly but just loud enough for him to hear me, and then he lowers his voice too,  
"Wanna come with me then?"

I don't know Phil very well, but here I am, at the front door of his small house. He unlocks it and gently places PJ's bag by the front door, immediately offering me a drink or something, to which I politely say no. I feel weird being here. No one knows where I am or who I'm with, and I don't want them to know. I don't want anyone to know and I wish I knew why. Maybe Phil's lured me home to kill me, but I doubt I'm that lucky. I guess I'll probably live another day, that's fine, maybe Phil will make it worth my wild. It's the least he could do if he's not going to treat me to my own funeral. Oh god, that got morbid. Whoops. Just smile. I'm fine.

"My parents won't be here," Phil says plainly, dressing the statement with a small smile, "So it's just us. Is that okay?"  
I nod.  
"Alright," he whispers, smile still highlighting the intricate features of his face, "Wanna come upstairs?"  
I nod again.  
"What's your vow of silence for? I hope it's a good cause because you really do have a voice worth listening to." His voice is smooth and charming, but I ignore him.

"Don't you have any friends?" I ask thoughtlessly, and suddenly I don't care if I'm offending him, or hurting him, or anything of the sort.  
"Oh… I- I, um…" he looks at the white tiles of the floor and shuffles his feet awkwardly. I _have_ hurt him. I take it back! I take it back! I care now, I don't want to hurt him, he's done nothing deserving of my habitual asshole-ness.  
"No, Phil… I'm sorry, I didn't mean that…" I plead, gently gripping the top of his arm and reminding myself how much my mouth had enjoyed saying his name that singular time yesterday.  
"Its fine, Dan," he says unconvincingly,  
"I'm sorry…" I whisper, "I know you just moved here, and I'm a jerk. I'm sorry."  
"Thanks, but yeah, it's alright," he smiles again.

"Do you still want to go upstairs Phili-" Am I about to say 'Philip'? No. Don't do that. Save it! Fix it, Dan! Come on! "…Philippa?"  
"Philippa?" he's looking at me quizzically, I fucked up. I did not save it. I did not, at all, fix it.  
"Uh- I'm not sure what really happened there," I confess and he's clearly trying to hold in a laugh.  
"Alright then," he chuckles, "Upstairs?" He motions toward the stairs and with a warm blush, and I follow him up.

His room is littered with band posters, Muse and a few others that I don't stop to look at properly as I'm instantly drawn to a reasonably sized, brown corkboard hung upon his wall.  
"Are these your parents?" I ask, looking at the collage of pinned photos,  
"Yeah," he says, "They still live further up north."  
"Who do you live with then?" I wonder aloud, straightening one of the photos,  
"Just me," he says solemnly, "I love my family, I really do, but we don't have the best relationship at the moment,"  
"I'm sorry…"  
"No, don't worry about it," Phil smiles again, "I, um, I do have friends, you know?" He points out.

I turn to face him and let out a short embarrassed laugh at myself for having asked him that before,  
"Is that so?" I challenge him playfully.  
"I have one that lives a couple of hours away," he tells me, "Her name's Sandra, but I call her Sandy sometimes," he chuckles.  
"Have you made any at school yet?" I ask,  
"Yeah," he smiles, "Other than you, if you'd want to consider yourself my friend, I met someone pretty cool in my visual arts class."  
"I don't… I don't mind being considered your friend," I smile and I can feel myself starting to blush. Blushing is the last thing I need right now…

"That's really cute," Phil chuckles, obviously my attempts to hide my blush have been unsuccessful.  
"Shut up," I give in and smile at him in embarrassment once again, "Who's your other new friend?"  
"His name is PJ?" Phil queries, obviously wondering if I know him, which, of course, I do.  
"Ah, yes. PJ," I say, shaking my head a little in surprise,  
"Please tell me he's not another target your extremely sociable friend. Chris was his name, right?"  
"Quite the opposite," I inform him, "They're friends, but he totally would be a target of his if things hadn't worked out the way they have."

"What do you mean?" he asks, seating himself on his bed,  
"PJ and I have been best friends since we were kids," I smile, sitting next to him, "We've been friends with Chris since we started high school."  
"That… is weird. You, Chris and PJ? You're all so different…?"  
"Yeah," I laugh, "We really are. Wanna know what makes it even weirder?"  
"What?" he asks, eyes wide as though he's a little confused of how it could possibly get stranger,  
"PJ and I live together, we have since a little before I turned twelve and when he was almost thirteen. Our parents got married," I laugh again.

"You're literally living every kid's dream," Phil chuckles, "Where does Chris fit in?"  
"Chris and I became friends in seventh form, we had a fair bit in common and then I introduced him to Peej. I guess Chris is the bully, PJ's the one that tries to get him to stop it because he knows he would probably be his victim too if things were different, and I'm the… I don't know what I am, but I fit somewhere in the middle."  
"You're something," Phil pokes out his tongue,  
"I'm something," I repeat with a nod.

"So, If I'm friends with PJ, and I'm friends with you, does that mean you can write me like, a little teacher's pass so that Chris will step off?" he laughs,  
"I can see what I can do," I wink with a grin,  
"Is he actually homophobic, or is he, like… I don't know?"  
"I hope he's not homophobic," I breathe before realising that I've said it out loud,  
"I take it you're still trying to figure things out?" Phil asks, apparently noticing my latest shift in tone and mood. I sigh. I've been questing my sexuality for, well, I don't know how long. I don't even know what's what anymore, but what I do know is that I want to know. I want to know that I'm straight. I have to be straight, but unfortunately I'm quite scared that I might not be

"I've never spoken about it to anyone before," I confess, "I don't… I don't know what…"  
"That's alright, Dan. That's a completely normal thing, not just for people that aren't straight, but for people that are, too. The fact that you're unsure doesn't necessarily mean anything, so take your time and do whatever you want or need to do until you know what you want," his voice is smooth and reassuring. His words are ones I've never considered before and now I feel a little calmer about the whole situation, "Questioning things is normal, and in my experience, freeing," he's smiling as he finishes his sentence and I can't stop staring at his mouth.  
"Can I kiss you?" I'm suddenly asking, and I'm immediately wishing that I hadn't and that aliens would bust through Phil's roof and abduct me. Oh god. Please say something, Phil… Silence. More silence. Where the fuck are those god damn aliens?!

"I don't know how much that would help you figure things out, and I don't want to take advantage of the fact that you're vulnerable or something…" he says after a moment, and instead of just accepting his answer, I'm correcting him! Why am I still talking? Why are the words still flowing from my mouth?! Why don't I just shut up?!  
"It's not to help me figure things out," I blurt out, and not it's too late for me to stop myself, but of course, I can't, "I just… I'm really attracted to you… I don't know. I'm sorry, this is awful. Just because you're gay doesn't mean you want anything to do with me like that…"  
There you go, Daniel, scare him off, that'll be great. Exactly the outcome that you want.

"Thanks…" Phil says meekly as he runs his hand through his ebony hair, he's obviously just as nervous as I am. I just keep messing things up with him. I swear I'm not normally this stupid. Oh god. He thinks I'm normally this fucking stupid! What do I do? Do I say something? I should say something. I open my mouth to tell him I'm not a complete moron before thinking better of it and closing it again. "Don't look so scared and depressed," Phil's voice interrupts the ever-present dialogue in my head, "I'll let you push me into a cupboard if it makes you feel better?" He grins at me with a breathy laugh and looks even more amused now that he can see the combination of embarrassment and ashamedness in my facial expression.

I'm not proud of being a bit of a bully. I've cleaned up my act, slowly, I'm nowhere near as bad as I used to be but that doesn't change the fact that I've hurt people. Last year I locked three people in classroom cupboards. Not spacey broom closets with space for them to move, but the thin cupboards in the classrooms where shelves of books were kept until 'someone' (me) 'accidentally' broke them all. Now they're the perfect size and shape with the right amount of space to easily push somebody into them and lock them in for a while. It's not comfortable. I should know. The three of them teamed up and gave me a taste of my own medicine, leaving me to stand in there uncomfortably until PJ happened to be looking for supplies in the art room I was in and found me. He thought it was a lot funnier than I did.

"Who told you about that?" I'm asking him as I begin fiddling with my fingers in my lap,  
"Most of the people in my art class are victims of yours," he says, placing a slightly larger hand over my own, stopping my twiddling.  
"I'm working on being less of an asshole…" I mumble, into the collar of the front of my school shirt,  
"Oh, come on, princess," Phil teases, placing a couple of fingers under my chin and lifting my face to look at him, "They don't hate you, if that makes you feel better. They don't understand why you join in with the others, but apparently you're nowhere near as bad. They don't even call you a bully, they just call you a bit of a jerk."

Boy, Phil really knows how to instil confidence in a person. Not.  
"Gee, thanks, Phil…"  
"I'm not sure why I thought that would be helpful…" he says, obviously feeling bad, and I have to admit that this is kind of funny. I let out a quiet laugh and feel the pressure of his fingers beneath my chin. The tips of his fingers are cool, not cold, but cool, and without any warning, I feel them dragging from under my chin and around my jaw as his hand moves to cup my face, his thumb gently stroking my cheek. There's something so comforting about this. I can feel the butterflies fluttering around inside my stomach and it feels like they're multiplying. I let out a shuddered breath and it seems that some of the butterflies have escaped. Thank god.

"Butterflies…" I whisper to him as his gentle, barely smiling, face slowly closes in on mine. His lips are getting closer to mine. He's almost here. He's less than three inches from my lips. Be cool, Dan. Be normal. Close your fucking eyes, will you?! Just breathe. Breathe. Good, there you go, your lungs are working and you'll live another day so long as you just continue to brea-  
His lips are on mine! I almost managed to get distracted by my own goddamn breathing! He brushes the most gentle, sweet kiss on my lips. It's a quiet, pure peck, perhaps extended by a few seconds just to savour the incredible feeling. God, I hope he feels this incredible feeling too. Every hair on my arms and torso is standing on end, goose bumps erupting all over my skin before he pulls away, his hand still securely and comfortingly against my face.

"Sorry…" I hear Phil say in what's quite possibly the softest voice I've heard in my entire life, he's pulling away from me now and while his head isn't hanging, his eyes have diverted from my general eye level to the faded white-grey carpeting on the floor. Why is he sorry? Does he regret kissing me? I sure as hell don't regret letting him.  
"Why are you sorry?" I ask, my voice sounding surprisingly normal, maybe this is the start of my brain and mouth working in cooperation to prevent me sounding like a confused and babbling child!  
"I shouldn't of," he's looking up at me now, "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, or made you feel… anything else bad like that. I don't- I don't normally kiss people I've just met, it's something I try to avoid usually, I'm not- I'm not… I'm not some slut or something, I'm sorry…"

Okay, okay, it's just him. It's not me. He doesn't regret it because of me, it's nothing personal. I'm just going to tell him it was more than okay, that I liked it, that I don't think he's a… did he say 'slut'? Jesus.  
"Phil, you're not a slut for kissing someone," I tell him, "Even if you don't know them well. Hell, you're not even a slut if you fuck four different strangers in the space of twelve hours, or if you spent the next twelve hours after that fucking every person you encounter."  
"I guess," Phil nods.

"You didn't make me uncomfortable either," I tell him. Maybe smiling like this will reassure him or something, "It was okay. No. It was good. It was great, Phil, no problems whatsoever."  
"Okay," Phil nods again, "Thanks…" he chuckles a little and I smile. We spend the rest of the afternoon eating and talking about weird things, like how his mum used to try to do craft projects all the time even though she's the least crafty or artistic person he knows. Apparently she tried to create a tiled mural once and when it came time for the unveiling to the family, she had just glued some bathroom tiles to what was once a round, wooden table. The tiles were square. He acts like he's alright with his family situation, but I know that he's not. He misses his parents and his brother. Having the people you love kick you out simply because of your sexuality would be devastating.

There's a vibration in my front pocket followed by a buzzing sound,  
"I'm sorry," I say to Phil, pulling my phone from my pocket and swiping left to accept the call. Apparently I forgot to look at the screen because now that I'm holding the phone against my ear, I have no fucking idea who I'm supposed to be greeting… "Hello?"  
"Hey," PJ's voice is greeting me through the phone, "It's almost six, and I thought you were going home straight after school? I got home at like, five, dad and your mum said that they hadn't seen you?"  
"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I didn't even notice the time, I swear I thought it was like, three-thirty or something…" I'm apologising,  
"Where are you?" PJ asks, this time his voice is concerned again like it was at school.

I don't get why everyone is suddenly so concerned. Yesterday was totally normal and no one was asking me anything like this, but today, for some reason, everyone's all up in my face about my moods. I'm fucking fine. I am fucking dandy!  
"I'm with a friend," I reply, and my voice sounds very hostile. That's not good. He's going to think something's-  
"What's wrong? What friend? Where are you? Why didn't you tell me where you were going? Chris went to the library for free study and said that you weren't in there after lunch. Where are you?" His questions come at me one after the other, leaving no time for me to answer any of them in between.

Apparently my face is portraying how overwhelming this bombardment is, as Phil is tapping my knee and looking at me with wide open eyes and an expression that reads something like, "Who's on the phone? Is everything okay?" I nod to him and go to answer all of PJ's questions, starting by addressing him by his name so that Phil knows who I'm talking to.  
"PJ, nothing's wrong, I'm sorry. I just made a really sudden decision, I didn't know I was going to leave or anything. I'm completely alright."  
"Please, Dan, tell me exactly where you are?" he makes it sound almost as like a question, but I know I do have to answer. If I don't answer this, he'll freak.  
"I'm on my way home now, okay? I'll be home in five minutes," I quickly hang up the phone and drop it into my lap.

"Your boyfriend's worried about you, huh?" Phil bares his playful smirk. He's like this, sometimes he's a confident little fuck and other times he's completely sweet and a little quirky.  
"PJ's freaking out a little, I have to go," I say standing up, and Phil does too. He ruffles his hair slightly and places a hand on my shoulder,  
"Dan?" he asks, and I turn around to look at him properly, "I forgot to tell you yesterday…" I can feel my heart beating in my chest and I don't know why, but I feel like I'm going to cry. I'm not going to though, I'm not going to cry. Blink it back, Dan. Blink it back. Good, just like that, don't let him see. Phil looks at me for a moment and takes his hand from my shoulder before finishing his sentence,

"It was _absolutely lovely_ to meet you."


	2. Chapter 2

I'll go inside on the count of three. One; what if PJ says something in front of mum and his dad? Two; what if he thinks something's really wrong and is really worried because he thinks I'm not okay? Three; what if he's right? Okay, Dan. Deep breath. Let's go. I open the front door to our house and take a step inside, looking around the entrance hall and into the adjoining lounge room where PJ is draped over the side of one of the lounge chair arms, his legs dangling off the end.

"Dan?" he calls out from the well-lit room as I turn to put his bag by the entrance hall cabinet, I can hear him scrambling to get up and within a moment his arms are enveloping me from behind.

"You're a bit clingy today," I joke as I peel his arms off my torso. He turns me around and looks at me properly, clearly very distressed, "Peej, what's wrong? What's going on with you and everyone else? Why are you suddenly so obsessed with my well-being?"  
"I just…" he face falls in front of my eyes and suddenly he looks very, very guilty. What has he done?  
"What have you done?" I ask cautiously, and he doesn't say a thing. Oh god. Oh my god, I know what he's done, "You DIDN'T, Peej! Fucking tell me you didn't!"  
"I… didn't?" Oh my fucking god, he has.

I slowly turn to pick up his bag, watching him carefully as his eyes do the same to me. As soon as I've got his backpack, I turn to face him as I was seconds earlier. _Three. Two. One_. I throw his bag at him as hard and as fast as I can and I'm running through the house and up the stairs toward my bedroom before he can stop me. God, I am out of breath. …Twelve, thirteen, fourteen stairs. I am so, so out of shape. …Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. I really need to start working out or something. I bolt into my room and there it is. My laptop, sitting open on my bed.  
"PJ!" I scream out, assuming we're home alone based off of the quiet throughout the house. He clomps up the stairs, loudly I might add, and stumbles into my room with the guiltiest look on his face.

"Dan, I'm sorry… I noticed a few things were off and… What was I supposed to think? What was I supposed to do?" He tried to plead with me,  
"It's called respecting my fucking privacy!"  
"It's called being scared that you'd disappeared to throw yourself in front of a train or something!" PJ screams out just as loud as I've been screaming at him. I think my heart has stopped. He's really gone through my files if that's his immediate thought… he's read what I've been writing over the past few months… It's not a diary, it's just some of my clearer thoughts put to paper through some profoundly powerful words, but I know that what he's read is enough to spark his fears.

"I didn't… I wasn't going to… It wasn't my intent for you to read that, Peej. You know that writing things out helps me, it's just an outlet. It's a good outlet too, and you know it," I say, I've changed my tone back to more of a calming one, at least that's what I'm hoping it sounds like to him.  
"You said a lot of things in there… It's just fourteen pages of some really scary content, Dan," he looks like he's about to cry now. Please don't cry PJ, please don't cry or I'll cry too!  
"Peej… It's not that bad, is it? Like, some of it's got to be normal, right? Like, they're not thoughts that I sit and think about all day every day, I haven't even opened that document since Saturday, and it isn't a big deal…" I try to convince him, but he just takes a step back and gently sits himself on my bed, stroking the smoothed out duvet cover.

"Dan, it's not normal to have thoughts about…" he swallows the saliva that's built up in his mouth, "…about injecting yourself with a local anaesthetic, slicing down your wrist, and then watching yourself bleed to death…" Well, there go my hopes of being normal, except… I guess that is normal for me. I don't even have concerns about the 'scary' thoughts anymore, they're just there.  
"I'm not going to do that…" I say, sitting down next to him, "I'm okay, I'm not bad at the moment, I promised you that I would tell you if I was. You went through my password protected laptop and read something that I've been putting together as an outlet for my thoughts… Yes, it's horrific, and yeah, it sounds really, really, bad, but they're not plans. Just thoughts. What happened to trusting me?"

PJ swallowed again, fiddling with his hands in his lap before looking up at me with teary eyes. Here we go.  
"I was- I am really scared, Dan…" his voice is quiet and timid, "I'm going to ask you something and I need you to answer me honestly. I do trust you, and that's why I'm asking you now, but I know that when you're unwell you're probably not going to feel like you can say something. I don't even think you know that you've been like… that… lately."  
Oh god. He's right. He's always picked up on things about myself before I have, he's right…

PJ looks at me, waiting for my signal that it's okay for him to continue. I look at him and take a deep breath before he starts again,  
"These aren't just random assumptions, okay?" he says, and I nod, "This is based off of what happened last November, and what I read before you came home, and off of how you've been acting. I'm only asking because I love you, okay?"  
"Okay."  
"Have you been hurting yourself?" his voice sounds pained and as though it's about to crack. I don't know how to answer him. I don't 'self-harm'. I don't cut or burn myself or anything. I don't

"No. No," I answer him, "I'm not hurting myself."  
"Dan, can you show me your wrists?" he asks me, looking like he's really about to cry. I swallow dryly. I don't cut myself. I don't have razors, not even the normal kind, apparently I grow very little body hair. Like a child. I don't cut myself, I swear I'm not cutting, but I'm scared because I know he'll see something he won't like, and now I know I look guilty. I pull up my sleeves and lay my wrists and forearms out flat on my thighs in front of me,  
"I don't- I don't actually hurt myself," I say as his eyes trace over the red marks crossing my white skin.

"What- What is this?" he's asking me, his fingers tracing over the red marks before his eyes are drawn to the slightly more faded bruises the same size and shape. Here we go…  
"When I'm stressed or overwhelmed, or if I generally feel empty or down, I do thi-" I begin before PJ interrupts me,  
"Is this from a rubber-band?" he gasps, "When you're fiddling with your hands or something, it's the rubber-band? Dan, I know it's not like, cutting or something, but this isn't good! You're actually leaving marks…"  
"It's just a habit," I say as he places my arm back down.

He's just looking at me. He's just staring at me. His eyes are watering. I hope he doesn't cry… I open my mouth to speak again and he shakes his head. Well, at least the awkward nodding I've been making people feel as though they have to do all day has stopped. Oh, and now he's crying. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I've fucked up. It's something I don't even think about, ever, it just happens of its own accord, and I've really upset my best friend because of it.  
"Okay," he wipes his eyes, "Next question, we'll go with a bit of an easier one. Where did you go after lunch, and why?"

I don't know what it is, but I don't want to tell him. I don't want him to know where I was, that I was with Phil, alone, at his house, where we talked and… kissed. PJ can't know that I might be attracted to men. I'm a sixteen year old guy, we all know what happens to sixteen year old guys that are attracted to other guys! They end up getting beaten up in the schools handicap bathroom during lunch, THAT'S what happens, and that can't be me.

If I tell him the truth, if I tell him that I kissed a guy, if I tell him, or anyone else, that I might not be straight, I could lose my family and my friends. Actual friends, like Chris. Maybe even PJ… What if his dad starts to hate me? What if mum hates me? What if he hates me and she doesn't and my sexuality tears this whole family apart?! What if I single-handedly destroy our entire family!? I can't do that again! It's already my fault that dad left, I can't ruin mum's marriage again. I can't do that to her. I just can't. Oh god, what do I say? What am I supposed to tell him?!

"I went home with a friend, we did friend things like talk about family and eat food," I say, and technically I'm not lying. Phil and I did both of those things.  
"Which friend?" he asks, clearly demanding that I tell him otherwise he's not going to be so nice about this anymore,  
"Just… Phil," I say, almost inaudibly stating Phil's name. PJ just stares at me. He's looking right at me with a look of confusion on his face,  
"Dan, two days ago you cheered people on as they beat him up and locked him in my locker," PJ's saying through his confused expression, "So why would you be at his house with him? Why would you leave school early with him? Why would either of you want to hang out with the other?"

Because, PJ, for some reason I am extremely attracted to him and he's completely charming, why wouldn't I want to be alone with him in his house instead of sitting in the school library?  
"Because, PJ, I am not entirely incapable of redeeming myself and making friends outside of my regular circle," I tell him. He looks at me for a second longer before his eyes drift away from me and back down to my wrists.  
"Yeah," PJ breaths, "Yeah, you're right. I'm sorry."  
"No, no, I'm not right! I mean, I am right, I mean… Ugh. Don't be sorry. I'm sorry. You're worried, and that's okay. You just care… You're trying to help," I breathe, running my fingers through my hair and watching PJ carefully.

He flings himself at me and wraps his arms around my neck, which is pretty customary for us since he's still a little taller than I am (though I am one hundred percent determined to one day be taller than him, I will win this!). He moves his arms further down my back and pulls me into him as if he's my mother and I his distressed child, rubbing my back soothingly.  
"Any more questions before mum and your dad get home?" I ask, and he pulls me in tighter,  
"I don't know how to ask it…" he whispers into my ear. I feel guilty. I've worried him again, and there's almost nothing worse than that. His hand continues to stroke up and down my back and it's so comforting.

We never used to hug like this. We used to think this was weird and possibly even uncomfortable. It's not a normal thing between guys, and it wasn't a normal thing for us either… until last November. I don't like to talk about it. I don't even like to think about it. I know some people can look back at things and accept them and move on, but I can't do that. Maybe one day it'll be like that for me, but until then I prefer to pretend it didn't happen. It's hard to pretend though, especially when it's not only you that's been affected by the whole ordeal.

PJ was home when I broke down. I didn't know he was here. I left school halfway through lunch because I felt overwhelmed and more than anything in the entire world, I just wanted to go to bed. Someone could have offered me twelve million dollars to stay at school and I still would have chosen to go home to bed. The thing is… when I got home and no one else was here, I just shut the front door, locked it behind me, and started hyperventilating. Everything in my head was a blur. I'd been struggling with bad thoughts and even worse feelings for a while and for some reason they all decided to attack me at once, building their forces and sending their armies in. I barely remember most of it.

An hour and a half later and somehow I was locked in my room, dizzy, hyperventilating, crying… with a bottle of sleeping pills in my hand. I didn't plan it, not really. I'd thought about it, but I never thought I'd do it. It wasn't until I looked at my bed and realised that I never wanted to be anywhere else again. I barely even wanted to be there. PJ must've come home from school at some point because he heard me crying, struggling to breathe, and he started knocking on the door. I couldn't answer him. I was frustrated, I couldn't do anything… so I swallowed the entire bottle of pills. PJ just kept calling out my name and his knocks turned to him pounding against the door. I don't remember anything at all after that.

In counselling, PJ told me what happened from his perspective, and I've never been able to forgive myself. I know it's only been five months, but I don't think I'll ever forgive myself for doing that to him. He said he came home from school a little bit early because no one could find me, and when he opened the front door all he could hear was heaving and sobbing coming from upstairs. By the time he was outside my bedroom door, he could hear my hyperventilation, my crying, and my yells of frustration. After a few minutes he couldn't hear me anymore. I'd stopped. He says that was the first time that he had ever felt his heart break and that it was the most fear he'd felt in his entire life.

He had to break down my door. I don't even know how he did it, maybe it was adrenalin, but by the time he got to me, he was in tears and I was slipping in and out of consciousness. In the ambulance he called our parents… The paramedics and then the people at the hospital kept asking him questions he couldn't answer – he didn't know anything. Deep down, I'm sure he knew what had happened, but it wasn't until after our parents sat him down and told him that I'd tried to… kill myself that it hit him. I don't think he's fully recovered, and I can't blame him. I traumatised him. I ruined his life. I swear I didn't mean to do it. I regret it whole heartedly.

"It's alright," I say, his squeeze on me tightening as he takes a breath in, "Just ask…"  
"Okay," PJ nods, his brown hair tangling loosely with my own slightly darker hair, "Dan… When you left school today, and I know that you leaving school shouldn't be a big deal, but it is, I thought… I thought it was going to happen again. You've been acting weird, Dan, and you've been a little distant… Can you honestly tell me that you're not going to…" he takes in a deep breath, "…to tr-try ag-again?"  
"Peej, no! I'm not going to! It's not like that now, okay? I'm okay, and I know I have support from you and everyone now, and I'm not on the verge of a break-down. I'm trying to sort some personal things out, but it's nothing like that. It's nothing like it was that day, I promise, PJ. I don't want to do that, I won't do it to you, and mum, and your dad, or anyone!" I say, squeezing him this time.

"Dan…" He says with watery eyes, holding me at arm's length and smiling a relieved smile, "I love you so much," he whispers, pulling me back in. I close my eyes and relax into his arms, it's not weird anymore. The first time he saw me back at the hospital after mum and Jamie told him what happened, he threw his arms around my sore body and cried. After I was sent home he slept in my bed with me for a week, holding me onto me for dear life, MY dear life, as if letting me go would mean that he'd lose me forever. I'd always considered him my best friend, always, and it was that exact moment that I really felt as though he was my brother. I love him.  
"I love you too," I say, softening my voice, "I'm not going anywhere."

"I'd probably be playing peek-a-boo with my kid and just never come back," some girl a couple of rows behind me laughs loudly with her friends. Of course she's just joking, but I'm not in the mood for it today.  
"My dad was really good at that game," I say, my voice flat. They all look shocked, but why should I care? They should be disgusted in themselves for even thinking something like that.

It's been a week and one day since I kissed Phil and had that really intimate discussion with PJ, and I've tried being normal. Phil and I haven't really hung out since then, nor have we properly spoken. I think I might have scared him off. I've smiled to Phil whenever I've seen him, in fact, I smile to him even when he's not looking. Okay, it's not to him, per se, but I'm smiling in his general direction whenever I see him. He smiled back at first, too… until I had to go and BETRAY OUR FRIENDSHIP LIKE THE COMPLETELY HORRIBLE, AWFUL EXCUSE FOR A PATHETIC HUMAN BEING I AM! Fucking hell, I feel bad. I didn't know it was possible to feel this much guilt. I probably broke his heart… Actually, probably not that far, but it would have hurt. A lot. We were meant to be friends…

I caught Chris pushing him up against a bunch of lockers a few days ago and stopped him, that's our most notable point of contact since we hung out at his house. Chris looked at me, confused, and asked why I cared. I didn't know what to say and all that came out was, "He's PJ's friend."  
He's PJ's friend?! PJ'S FRIEND?! Not MY friend, PJ'S friend! I can't image how that would have hurt Phil… I fucked up. I really fucked up, and now his smiles are a little more forced… pained even. I'm really sorry, but I don't know how to apologise to him.

"Dan?" someone's talking to me, "Daniel?" Oh. It's Chris. I turn to face him properly and raise my eyebrows so he knows he has my attention, "Are you alright?" he asks.  
"Yeah, why?" I answer, pulling his pen from his mouth and putting it back down on the desk,  
"Because you haven't spoken about your dad since… like, at least four years ago, and you just snapped at Christine about him?" he queries quite sternly without letting me break eye contact.  
"I've spoken about him," I practically hiss, and I have, I'm not lying. From time-to-time I have the immense pleasure of telling people that my dad left, that my dad left me because he doesn't love me.

"I think what you just said is a little different from the standard variations of the 'My dad left when I was seven and now I have a new one' speech that you spill out when you have to. Very different," Chris informs me, his words drilling into my skull, boring holes and raising my temper.  
"I DON'T CARE, CHRIS. HE'S NOT IMPORTANT!" I yell, standing up and drawing the attention of literally the entire room as I storm from my seat to the front of the classroom. On my way down I look at Phil's desk and spot the colouring book again, but I don't want to think about that fucking stupid, intriguing colouring book right now. I walk straight out the door, the teacher calling my name after me, but I ignore her. I don't care about her either.

I've been slumped down in the corner of the handicap bathroom for about fifteen minutes now, I think. I've just been crying. Not sad crying, or depressed crying, none of that bullshit. It's angry crying. I'm angry and I'm upset. I'm frustrated. I'm not having a great day, I don't really have a reason why. I just generally feel utterly, utterly horrible, and now to top it all off I've gone and made a complete idiot of myself in front of one of my classes. Wonderful. There's a knock on the door and I watch as the handle turns down as whoever it is goes to open the door. Before it's registered in my mind that this means whoever it is will see me like this, and before I can open my mouth to tell them the bathroom's occupied, Phil is standing in front of me and the door is closing shut behind him.

"I figured you'd be here," he speaks, locking the door and pressing his back to the smooth surface as he slides down to sit by me. His voice is gentle and I wish he'd just keep talking to me forever because listening to his voice and the things he says is just such a wonderful experience.  
"Did you?" I ask, wiping the tears from my red face and making my best efforts to not look like a complete tool.  
"No," he says, and I laugh a little, it's funny. It's honest. "I checked like six other places before here. I even walked past about three times, I just figured you weren't in here because the door was unlocked," he chuckles.  
"It's strategic," I shrug with an amused smile.

"Are you okay?" he asks, flicking a stray tear from my cheek away.  
"Yeah, just a bad day," I sigh, "Thanks for coming to find me… Oh, and I'm so sorry for what I said the other day, I should've said you were my friend. You are my friend Phil. We're friends… if you still want to be," I almost start babbling and have to stop myself before I say something stupid.  
"Don't worry about that, precious," he reassures me, running his hand down my arm, "Dan, I get that it's a weird situation for you, okay? None of that is important right now unless it's what's on your mind. Do you wanna talk about what happened in class?"

How is he so incredible? How does he know exactly what to say? How does he use little pet names like that with such ease?  
"Thanks…" I whisper, "I don't know if I can talk about it," I tell him.  
"That's okay," he says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pulling me into him slightly,  
"Sometimes it just gets to me, but not normally when I'm already in a horrible mood or whatever," I confess.  
"What gets to you?" Phil asks, softly and supportively. I wish I knew how to tell him. It's a story I've told just a few times before, but it never gets easier, especially since I haven't had to speak about it for so long.

"My dad…"I shudder. He looks at me with a slight softness and the all-too recognisable expression of pity. I hate pity, but I can't take that out on him.  
"Sorry…" he says quietly and I shake my head as he begins to speak again, "Do you want to try and talk about it?" It's a good question. Do I want to talk about it? Do I? Do I, really? I guess I do. I do. I will.

"He left when I was about seven… He and my mum had been fighting a bit over my behaviour, my dad used to blame my mum for me not going to bed on time, or not sleeping and needing him to stay in there with me so that I wouldn't cause trouble… Whenever they fought it was because of me or something I did. I heard everything just about every single time, so I know that for a fact. Then one night he just left. He put me to bed that night, tucked me in, and told me he'd see me in the morning… and when I woke up the next day, he was gone. My mum was crying on the couch and hadn't slept. After I went to bed he walked right up to her and told her he was leaving and then he- he… he walked out the front door and never came back…" I'm surprised I got through that, if I'm being honest. I think most of it was probably inaudible or difficult for Phil to understand, but he seems to have gotten it.

Oh god, I'm crying. I didn't even notice. Phil pulls me closer and suddenly I'm crying into his chest as his arms wrap around me properly. It hurts so much just to think about him, talking about him is another excruciating sensation entirely. I don't care how long it's been, I don't care if I have a new dad now, I don't even care if I have a new, better, family now, because it still hurts. I don't understand how he could just leave like that. I'm sure that at some point, on some level, my mum will get over it, assuming she hasn't already. In a way I guess it's just like another break up for her, they weren't married or anything, the only real difference being that she had me with him. I, on the other hand, have to live the rest of my life knowing that my father doesn't love me, and that not even one of the two people that are supposed to love me, genetically imposed to love me, is able to.

"Dan, I am so sorry…" whispers Phil, interrupting my thoughts as he runs his fingers through my hair and gently rubs his hand up and down my back. He probably thinks I'm some sort of freak. Who the hell cries to someone like this? "You're kind of having a pretty difficult time at the moment, huh?"  
"Yeah," I breathe, "You could say that. I'm sorry for being like this," I say as I slightly pull from his embrace. I don't want him to stop holding me like this, it's so comforting and it feels so safe, but I'm scared that if I don't break the contact, he'll realise just how pathetic I am. Jesus, I'm such a fucking loser.

"Don't be sorry, it's okay to feel upset about things like that," he smiles sensitively, "And I heard what happened with Christine, so it's no wonder you'd be upset. Anyone in your position would be."  
"You're really nice," I sniff with a quick smile of my own, "And you're really good at this whole consoling thing and knowing what to say…"  
"I've had a fair bit of experience," Phil tells me, "Do you feel any better?"  
"A little, yeah. I'm glad we're friends," I chuckle.  
"Me too, sweetness," he grins, quickly stroking my cheek to clear away some of the wetness from the tears.

"Is it weird that I kinda like it when you call me little things like that?" I ask with a shy giggle, there's something so sweet and endearing about it that makes me feel all warm inside, but I doubt I'll ever tell him that much.  
"Not at all," he smiles, "I'm searching for one that fits perfectly and sticks, but so far everything has seemed fitting for you," he laughs a little.  
"You're really impressive," I tell him very quickly, almost hoping that he doesn't hear me.  
"Not really," he grins, "but thank you."

I wonder if now's the time to ask again. I've been wondering and thinking about Phil and his little pencil-case sized colouring book far too much for my liking as of late, and I wanted to bring it up, but-  
"What's on your mind?" Phil asks, sounding concerned because apparently I've zoned out,  
"Um," I begin to think a loud, "How come you carry around a colouring book and are always colouring?" And now that's it's come out of my mouth, I realise how much of a dick I sound.

I hope I haven't offended him… Please god, don't let me have offended him.  
"Colouring is therapeutic. It's a simple, enjoyable mindfulness exercise; it helps with stress relief and anxiety and stuff…" he answers shyly, no longer making eye contact. His response sounds rehearsed.  
"Oh."  
"Yeah…" he breathes in response to my clearly very insightful statement, "I have problems with anxiety, colouring helps. My mind wanders a lot too," he chuckles, "Especially in classes. So it helps me focus a little better, but it's mostly to keep my mind in check so I don't start worrying about every little thing."

"But you don't seem like you're anxious or anything… ever?" I, once again, find myself wondering aloud. He seems full of confidence and pretty normal to me.  
"Anxiety disorder is different for lots of people, like you can be still be functional and stuff," he shrugs, "I can get really anxious about a few things, but most of the time I'm fine. I've found ways to cope and ways to avoid certain things, and, yeah, for the most part I'm completely fine," he smiles. I've always assumed that all anxiety disorder type stuff was the same, but I guess I was spectacularly wrong.  
"You're actually really, really impressive," I let out a short exhale through my nostrils in a silent laugh.

Phil grins at me in thanks and drops his head onto my shoulder for a moment before forcing it back upright,  
"Okay, so we've learned a bit about each other today," he chuckles,  
"Fancy sitting with us at lunch?" I suggest. Maybe if Phil and Chris get to know each other, they'll be friends! He's already friends with PJ and me, so I don't think that there would be much conflict… maybe… Probably not.  
"You know what does make me anxious, though?" Phil says, "Sitting with someone that has no problem whatsoever with shoving me in a locker, or pinning me against a wall and cutting off my air supply, or beating me up, or, my personal favourite… getting his friends to help him with doing any of the latter."

"I didn't know it was getting that bad…" I confess, "I'm so sorry. I'm gonna talk to him about it, okay?" Why the hell is Chris still targeting him? I've spoken to him about it twice, and now I need to make it a third time before he gets the freaking message?  
"Yeah, thanks…" Phil replies, looking down into his lap and fiddling with a loose thread on his pants.  
"Do you maybe want to do something on the weekend?" I ask, hoping to god that he doesn't reject me because I don't think I could take that right now. Actually, it was probably a bad idea to ask. If he shoots me down, it's my own fault.

"Sure," he looks up and smiles at me. His cerulean eyes shining back at me, his lips teasing at a small smile, "You could come over if you want?"  
"Okay," I smile in return before something else I've been wondering pops back into my mind, "Phil?"  
"Dan?" he mocks, though it's easy to tell that he means it as a "yes?" more so than anything else,  
" _How_ do you live alone?" Does that even make sense? He's probably laughing at me internally.

"Uhm," he looks up at the ceiling, the same flickering light as a week and a half ago is blinking sporadically down at us. "Before I lived here, I was technically homeless, I was in a youth shelter for a few months after my parents kicked me out. I understand where they were coming from, to a certain degree, and I try not to be too bitter about it or anything. They're really strong Catholics and I'm- you know, but I was homeless and couldn't do much about it for a little while because I was under eighteen. I turned eighteen in January and could finally rent a place without so much difficulty, and I could access the money that my grandparents left for me. The shelter wasn't too bad, but moving into my own place and having room to do things, and privacy, and my own belongings is just… better, as one could imagine," he laughs.

Phil was kicked out by his parents and was homeless, and yet he's… chuckling about it? He's so surprising, and incredible and so, so strong. That's it. When I grow up, I want to be Phil. He is just… he's only a little bit older than me and he's gone through all that. I can't imagine how terrifying that would have been for him.  
"Phil, I'm so sorry," I say, and he smiles at me again. He smiles a lot. I like that about him.  
"It's alright, I survived and it could have been a lot worse," he assures me. How could it get worse than that, though? He gets kicked out, is homeless, forced to live in a youth shelter and then what? A dragon burns him to a crisp? Because that's the only way that I can see his former situation possibly getting any worse.

"Dan, are you okay? You've gone all quiet?" Phil's voice interrupts my thoughts,  
"I'm just quietly basking in your glory," I say with a laugh, and he reciprocates.  
"Alright then," he giggles, "I'll catch you later, bright-eyes," he says smoothly as he stands up, extending a hand to offer me to do the same. I take his even-temperatured hand and allow him to pull me to my feet,  
"Tomorrow, then?" I ask,  
"Is five okay?" he asks in confirmation, and I nod with a bit of a half-smile, knowing that he's staring straight at my now prominent dimple.  
"You're cute," he murmurs just loud enough for me to hear as he opens the door, "See you then, you've got my number, yeah?" he says a bit louder, I nod, and then he's gone, leaving me to attend lunch and my last classes for the day before heading home.


	3. Chapter 3

The school week is finally over and I'm almost home. The school week is finally over and I'm walking up my driveway. The school week is finally over and PJ just tripped over the mailbox because he was too busy staring at his phone. The school week is finally over and we're in the entrance hall racing to be the first one to have their shoes off and be dressed in our pyjamas for our "Chick-Flick" movie night. Mum and Jamie are going out, right into London, for Jamie's work thing and they're staying in a hotel for the night. When they told us they were going PJ made a joke about us gaining a baby brother, to which my mum looked utterly shocked… until she said,  
"How dare you think I'm letting another boy into this house! There's already three of you! You ought to know that I'd be going to great lengths to make sure it was a girl, trading your games for gold to pay many witches to perform the ritual!"

We all laughed and suddenly I didn't feel like punching PJ anymore. My mum is so great. Anyway, so PJ and decided to have a themed movie night, unfortunately we weren't able to decide what theme, so we put a bunch in a hat and drew one out. Chick-Flicks was what was picked out and so we're watching Pretty Woman, Bridget Jones' Diary and a bunch of others that my mum pulled out from her apparent secret stash of DVD's. She seemed to like the idea that we were "getting in touch with our feminine side's", but was a little disappointed that we didn't invite her to join us. She said that she'd much rather eat popcorn and wish she was a prostitute or a socially awkward spinster with two gorgeous men fighting over her than go out to a "stupid work thing with lots of boring, old, white men in their fifties". Thanks for that mum. PJ found that comment of hers to be especially hilarious.

"DAN?!" PJ's calling me from his room, so I put down my pyjamas and drag myself into his room, letting out a huge sigh as though it was the most tedious task I'd ever performed.  
"Whaaaat?" I whine exaggeratedly, and he looks up at me,  
"Nice boxers, aren't they mine?" he larks,  
"I don't know," I laugh back, "Probably. What do you want?"  
"I found your bear in my wardrobe," he looks at me strangely, and hands me my stuffed brown bear,  
"Don't look at me like that," I say, taking Teddy back from him, "You must've taken him the other day when I stole your laptop charger. That's when he went missing," I say before looking down at Teddy, "Isn't that right, Teddy? I missed you, did you miss me? Of course you did!"

I hug Teddy close to my chest and stare at PJ accusingly before bursting out into laughter, at my own exaggeration, closely followed by PJ doing the same. I step into the hallway and toss Teddy into my bedroom, quickly joining PJ back in his room, yawning upon re-entry and sitting on his bed. PJ shakes his head at my general laziness and continues rummaging through his drawers for his pyjamas, which may or may not be sitting in my room after being stolen by me…

"Dan? Peej? Boys, are you up here?" my mum's voice echo's up the stairs and PJ calls out to let her know we're in his room. She hovers at the open door way for a moment with an amused look on her face, "You two preparing for a fun night, then?" she winks.  
"Yes, mum," I say sarcastically, getting up and wrapping my arm around PJ, "We're just so happy to have some alone time," I wink back before the three of us burst into laughter.  
"Don't forget to actually put some clothes on, Daniel," she reminds me, still friendly, but her tone becoming more mum-ish.  
"I will," I tell her.

PJ closes the last of his drawers, giving up on finding his lost pyjamas, I think I'll sneak them back in later so that he doesn't know I kidnaped them.  
"Sweetie, your dad wants us all in the kitchen," she says to PJ, still in the doorway as to not impose on his part of the house. She's always so respectful of our rooms and privacy, so is Jamie, they trust us a lot, and because they do, we don't really hide much from them at all. It's a good system we have.  
"Alright, thanks," PJ smiles at her, brushing his hand across her arm on his way past as a friendly gesture. The second he's reached the top of the stairs, mum gestures towards my room and I lead her inside. Here comes the mum-talk.

"Are you going to be alright here with PJ?" she asks, obviously trying not to sound concerned at all, but not succeeding.  
"I'll be fine, I promise," I tell her nicely,  
"How've you been feeling lately?" she continues with a nod and reassuring smile, she likes to check in on my moods every now and then, and I guess the idea of her and Jamie not being here worries her a little.  
"Alright," I say, "Nothing bad,"  
"Are you sure?" she asks me, a little more sternly this time,  
"Yeah, why?"

"Dan," she sighs, "Your school called me this afternoon. They're worried…"  
"What?" I ask, "Why? Who's worried? What did they say?"  
"They said you had an outburst in class, stormed out and didn't come back. No one saw you for over an hour and a half," she says, her eyes searching my face for the slightest indication that I'm not okay.  
"Oh," I breathe, "That. I'm sorry, I was having a bad day and some girl said something really stupid, I made a comment, Chris asked me about it and I got all defensive and snapped. I'm okay, though. When I left the class, my friend came and found me and we talked for a bit and then I went to my next class, I promise I'm okay."

"Your friend?" she asks, of course she chooses not to address the rest and goes straight in for information on my social life. She's such a mum,  
"Yes, my friend," I say, apparently a little too suspiciously because mum has a look of excitement on her face. Oh no.  
"Could this 'friend' potentially be more than just 'a friend'?" she leans in close and raises her eyebrows,  
"Maybe…" I answer, a grin sweeping across my face.  
"Does she have a name?"  
"I've been known to address this friend as Philippa," I laugh and bury my face in my hands and mum stops to look at me.

"I know that face," she scans my features through my hands and speaks again, "You're not telling me something. Are you lying to me?" her voice is still light and playful.  
"Mum, can I tell you something?" I start, and she nods at me expectantly. Just as I open my mouth to speak, Jamie's voice interrupts our conversation from downstairs,  
"Come on, guys! It's getting late!" he calls out, and with that, I've changed my mind.  
"I was just going to say that I think I have a crush or something," I smile, "I'll tell you more when there's more to tell, yeah?"  
"Good plan, my baby," she says with a huge smile and hugs me tightly.

We're on our fourth movie and PJ's asleep on my legs and I can't feel my left foot. It's not even midnight yet and he's fallen asleep halfway through The Vow. I wiggle my leg a little and he murmurs something incoherently,  
"Peej," my voice filters through his brain and he stirs a little, "PJ, I can't feel my foot."  
PJ's suddenly shooting up, looking straight at my face with wide, green eyes, filled with concern and a little bit of sleep,  
"What!? Are you okay?! What happened!?" he's frantically asking me, searching my face for any signs of distress. I let out a soft laugh and shake my head,  
"You're on my legs."

He bites the inside of his cheek and pulls his hand up to his face in embarrassment,  
"Maybe it's time for bed…" he chuckles, shifting himself and freeing my legs from their entrapment, "You alright?" he quickly asks me as he stands up and stretches.  
"I'm fine," I breathe, stretching myself out on the lounge, "Night." PJ smiles at me and heads back toward the stairs to bed, leaving me alone. I could probably fall asleep here if I let myself. I wait a few minutes before copying PJ's earlier actions by standing up and heading up to bed, and falling asleep quickly.

OUCH! FUCK! What the heck!? …Oh. Only I could manage to wake myself by breaking the glass of water by my bed, covering half my body in water and cutting my arm! Jesus fucking Christ! I pull myself out from the covers, immediately feeling the cold hit my almost completely bare flesh, and turn on my lamp, and- oh god… it's worse than I thought. How the hell did I manage this? I open my top drawer and pull out the tissues – yes, I have tissues by my bed, shut up - and hold them against the bleeding scratches on my wrist and forearm.

I glance down at the remains of the glass, seeing a huge wet-patch next to my pillow where some of the water must've spilled. The edge of the glass is sharp and jagged now, three or four reasonable sized pieces laying on the floor. I must've hit my arm against the sharp edges more than once before waking up. How does someone do that?! Balancing the tissues on my wrist for a second, I lean down and quickly pick up the pieces of glass and putting them inside the remains of the clear cup before tossing it into the small bin – yes, there's a bin next to my bed, yes, it's what you're probably thinking - I look down at the balled up tissues in my hand as I hold them against my wrist, I hope it's not bleeding anymore…

I lift the tissues and notice that they're almost completely soaked with blood and what I thought were superficial scratches are apparently actual cuts. How the hell did I manage to do this to myself? I'm so goddamn tired. I toss the bloodied tissues onto the bed and grab a fresh one to hold over the cuts as I make my way out to the bathroom. There's some first aid stuff in there, so hopefully I'll be able to clean myself up a little better… I press the home button on my phone to check the time, I've only been in bed for two and a half hours. Great.

The florescent light of the bathroom stings my eyes a little as I turn it on and step inside, shutting the door. I should probably- oh right, there isn't a lock on here anymore. I drop the red tissue onto the counter and turn on the tap, running water over the cuts to soothe, and, I don't know, maybe clean them a little? I turn off the water and open the cabinet, grabbing an antiseptic, a large piece of one of those cotton-wool square things like on Band-Aids, and a waterproof dressing big enough to cover all of the cuts. The only problem I seem to have is that I can't clean it and dress it until it stops bleeding, at least not without spending the rest of the night worrying about it.

There's a noise coming from somewhere down the hall, but I don't really care too much. It's probably nothing. I dab at the cuts some more, soaking some toilet paper in the antiseptic and pressing it against my damaged skin because I know next to nothing about first aid and maybe this will make it hurry up and stop bleeding. This is so stressful, why won't it stop? I reach up and rub my tired eyes with my uninjured arm, my fingers putting pressure on my eyes and making me wish for sleep. I'd probably fall asleep right here and now if I weren't standing up. I reach down to put the lid back on the bottle of antiseptic and instead, in my tired state, I knock the bottle over onto the floor.

I can't take all this. I'm too tired, I want to go to sleep! I've broken my glass, I've spilled my water, I've cut my wrist and my fucking arm, I'm still bleeding, and now I've knocked over and spilled the stupid, fucking, useless bottle of antiseptic! I fall to my knees, feeling the cold writhe through my bones and the pain shudder directly through the joints, and I'm sobbing on the bathroom floor in a slowly reddening puddle of antiseptic and my own pathetic tears. It's now that I realise that not only have I spilled the antiseptic, but I've smashed that glass bottle too. Fucking GREAT.

"Dan?" I hear from outside, proceeding a light series of knocking, "Dan, are you in there? Are you alright?" PJ asks, his knocking is heavier and harder now. Of course I'm fucking in here. Who the fuck else would it be? The monster from the closet? From under the bed, perhaps? There is literally two of us in the house, one of us is in the hallway and there's someone in the bathroom. Logically, who the fuck else would it be?! Fuck. Don't say that, Dan.  
"Yes?" I reply, sounding just as frustrated and stressed as I feel, and suddenly I regret saying anything at all because I'm just staring at the handle as he slowly turns it open from the outside…

PJ's obviously heard me crying in the bathroom and is coming to check that I'm alright. He opens the door before I can protest, I know how this must look, but it's too late and the door's wide open. He looks at my wrist and my crying, shaking form on the ground and audibly gasps, shaking his head and covering his mouth, taking a few steps back from the door frame. There are silent tears running down his face now, and I don't know what to do.  
"D-Dan…" PJ stutters, "I…"  
"Peej, no!" I shout, standing up on wobbly legs, "I didn't- I didn't do… this," I tell him, gesturing to myself and the scene before him.

"What did you do?" he whispers, trying to hold back his tears. He's terrified, "Dan, c-can- can I come in..?"  
"Yes! Peej, it's okay, I swear," I say, but he shakes his head and takes a few steps over to me, lifting me to my feet and walking me over to the toilet, seating me on the closed lid in silence. It's a horrible, horrible silence.  
"Just sit. Stay there. I'm going to- I'm gonna clean this up…" he says quietly, picking up the pieces of the brown bottle and lid, gently placing them in the bin before pulling a towel off the rack and using it to soak up everything I spilled. PJ tosses the dampened towel into the basket by the door and I close my eyes as he walks over and begins cleaning and dressing my wrist before silently taking me to his bedroom.

"Peej, will you let me explain?" I beg as he tucks me into his bed. He doesn't answer me. "I knocked over my glass and broke it, Peej. I didn't mean to cut my arm at all, I swear. I was in the bathroom to clean it up because it wouldn't stop bleeding and I didn't know what to do because it was scary and I was tired… And then I dropped the freaking bottle and started crying because apparently I'm an extremely emotional loser."  
"I don't believe you," he tells me, his voice stern. He's trying to sound strong, tough even, but there's a tremble in his voice.  
"Please believe me…" I quietly beg him, "I promised you, remember? I've broken your trust before, but I've never broken a promise to you, please, PJ."

He looks as though he's considering my pleas, and that's a good sign, right? Right. I've decided it's a good sign. He runs his shaky fingers through his hair and lets out a deep breath before nodding to me. Definitely a good sign.  
"Dan…" he whispers, sinking into the bed beside me and getting comfortable, knocking against me a few times.

He pulls the blankets up over himself as well and turns to face me, slipping his arm under his pillow, "Don't get angry with me…"  
"For what?" I ask, pulling the blanket over my shoulder a little more,  
"I want a new promise," he whispers.  
"I don't even know what that means…" I murmur into the pillow,  
"Check in with me every day?" he asks, but I know it's not really a question, "And promise to be honest?"  
"Okay," I nod, "I'll check in with you every day and I'll be one hundred percent honest. I need to tell you something…"  
"Thank you. Good… What is it? Are you- are you okay?" he answers me.  
"I'm alright, it's nothing like what you've been worrying about, I swear. I've been a bit… I've felt like crap a lot lately. Nothing too bad, I'm okay. On Wednesday I went to the doctor after school and so I've started on my medication again," I whisper, "I'm okay. I'm going to be okay."

"Alright… Is there something that, I don't know, is maybe causing you to feel down..?" he asks warily, taking in a couple small breaths.  
"I think it's mostly just me and how naturally fucked up I am,"  
"Shut the fuck up, Daniel. I mean if there's anything legitimate, not just you and your self-loathing," he snaps at me.  
"Sorry…" I say. I'm suddenly feeling quite small and extremely stupid, "There is something… a couple something's."  
"Yeah?" PJ asks, looking at me properly in the dimmed light of the bedside lamp. I have to tell him.

What do I say? Do I tell him directly? Do I lead up into it? Do I blurt out that I'm gay and hope for the best? No. No. No. I don't want to tell him. He'll hate me and I don't want that. I want us to be happy. If I tell him then it won't be long until mum and Jamie know, and I can't tear apart our family. I can't destroy another family. I just need to toughen up and get through everything and I will be fine. Everything will be fine. I'll… I'll water this down.  
"I like someone… as more than a friend, I think. It makes me feel a little excited, but also a little scared because I have no idea what I'm doing or how people would react…" I explain,  
"Why? Is she like, I don't even know…?" he frowns, "I can't think of what would render someone undateable, you know? Everyone has great qualities if you get to know them."

She. He said "she". Of course he did, I don't know what I expected.  
"That's just something that's been on my mind, I guess," I finish off until he starts talking again,  
"What about the other 'something's'?" he asks, and I'm not talking any more. I don't want to talk about my dad. He's been on my mind a lot lately, and I don't want the memory of him to waste anymore of my time, any more of my life. He's not worth it… except… I hate him. I hate him because I miss him, and- fucking hell! I'm thinking about him again! I can feel the warm wetness of tears down my face and now I know I'm completely screwed because PJ asked me a question and I'm crying in response. Fucking wonderful.

"Dan, I'm sorry… but, can you tell me what it is?" he slides his arm around me in comfort,  
"No."  
"You'll feel better,"  
"No, I won't," I cry, "I won't."  
"I thought we could talk about anything… We're best friends, Dan. We're brothers…"  
"Fine." I say a little louder, and the word seems to disturb the entire feeling of the room, "Fine. It's my dad. Things are happening and I'm thinking about him a lot more. I'm trying to block it out, but it's really, really hard, PJ…"

"What things are happening?" he asks softly, running his hand through my hair and down my neck. I know it's a platonic action. I know he's not going to do anything, but the second his fingers reach the flesh of my neck, I flinch away with a gasp. Except now that I've opened my eyes again and I'm looking at PJ's scared and apologetic face, I'm suddenly painfully aware that it didn't come out as a gasp.  
"Dan, I'm so sorry! What- what happened? What did I do? Shit, I'm sorry…." PJ's profusely apologising and I don't know what to tell him. All he did was run his fingers through my hair and touch my neck and I jumped from his touch and… and… I practically screamed and yelled out, "No! Don't hurt me!" I'm literally right on the edge of the bed now, as far away from him as the bed will allow. It's this. It's the setting. It's everything. I can't do it.  
"I'm sorry, Peej," I breathe, my voice hoarse and higher than normal, and I project myself from the bed, shooting out of PJ's room, running into my bedroom and slamming the door behind me.

I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I'm crying. My breathing, oh god… I can't… I can't stop it. It's too fast. It's too shallow. I'm breathing, but I can't breathe. I can't… there's no air. I take a few steps back and feel the wall meet my body behind me, and as I sink down toward the floor, my bedroom door swings open and PJ is standing in front of me. He keeps a distance and sits down a little bit in front of me, his eyes never leaving me. I can feel his gaze on me.  
"I'm s-sorry…" I stutter, looking up at him, and his mouth tugs at a smile and he shakes his head.  
"Deep breaths, okay?" he says calmly, "In and out, yeah? In… and out," he mimes, and I copy him, slowly calming down after a few deep breaths. This isn't the first time he's dealt with one of my panic attacks.

It's been a few minutes now of just breathing, and I think I'm alright. I nod my head at PJ and he stands up and grabs some tissues, handing them to me to wipe my teary face. I don't know why I went into a panic like that… It was weird and scary and I never want to experience that again.  
"Dan… What happened?" PJ finally asks me again,  
"I don't- I'm not sure…" I confess. I know there's a reason, I know there's one, but I can't wrap my head around my reaction.  
"Are you okay? How do you feel?"  
"I feel okay," I breathe shakily, "I just… I need to go to bed. I need to be alone. I'm sorry."  
"No, don't be sorry… I'm a little wary of leaving you alone now though, can we work something out?" he suggests, taking the tissues and tossing them into the bin by my bed.

"Is this the glass you cut yourself on?" he asks, pointing into the bin, and I nod. "So, it really was an accident?" he continues, and I nod again.  
"Are you okay?" I ask him this time, "Tonight is a bad night, and mum and dad aren't here, and it's just you, and I know that's overwhelming and I've really freaked you out… I'm sorry."  
"I'm fine," he smiles, "I trust you, and I love you, and I want you to get some sleep," he says, and I smile at him,  
"Thank you."  
"Do you want me to stay or leave you alone? I'd prefer to stay, if that's okay?"  
"Stay," I say, changing my mind. Suddenly I need him. Suddenly I'm glad he's as great as he is, and I'm glad he's here for me.


	4. Chapter 4

"Boys?! Are you guys up yet?! It's just past midday, we're home!" mum calls from hallway, penetrating into my dream and waking me up with a startle. I jolt awake and notice that PJ is lying beside me, rubbing his eyes and stretching his legs out,  
"How're you feeling?" he whispers without looking at me, obviously trying to make sure I'm alright before my mum inevitably comes marching in, searching for her children.  
"Better. I'm sorry for everything…" I whisper back, "Thank you,"  
"It's okay, it was a rough night. We all have them sometimes, yours just happened to be a little bit extremely rough," he says, leaning over to hug me. I close my eyes and lean into his embrace, he's probably the best person on the earth.

"Aw, boys!" My mum's voice coos from the doorway, causing PJ to let go of me and sit up a little straighter, "You two are so-"  
"If you say cute, I swear to god that I will leave you without grandkids," I threaten her with a grin and she pouts at me. Mum really wants grandkids one day, I wonder how that will play out if I marry a guy… "  
"Fine," she laughs, "Any plans for the day?"  
"I'm going out with my friend Jessica tonight," PJ speaks up, "We're going to her friend's eighteenth."  
"Oh, sounds good! Be safe and don't do anything I wouldn't do," she winks and we all laugh,  
"Well, that severely limits my fun," PJ teases with a smirk.

"How about you, Daniel? Any plans?" she looks at me expectantly,  
"I was gonna go to my friend's house tonight…" I say quietly,  
"Are you staying over, or…?"  
"I'm not sure, I'll text you when I know," I assure her.  
"Which friend is this?" she asks, letting her motherly nature show, and I do appreciate her love and caring, it's just that… I don't know what to say.  
"Uh…" I pause, "His name is Phil."  
"Wait, you're actually still friends with Phil?" PJ looks over at me, shocked, "But like, you know… At school with Chris…?"  
"Yeah, I know, but he doesn't blame me for that and we spoke again at school. We're actually getting to be really good friends," I inform them both as PJ looks on and mum attempts to take in as many details as possible for her motherly information bank.

"Peej, do you know this Phil boy, too?" she catches on, curious,  
"Yeah," he answers her, still looking at me, "He's in my art class and a few others. We've talked a few times too, we're sort of friends at school, in class, I guess."  
"Maybe I could meet his parents then?" mum smiles and I shake my head. She gives me a curious look, telling me to elaborate on my gesture.  
"He doesn't really have a relationship with his parents at the moment, he doesn't live with them…" I tell them, "But please don't mention this to anyone because I don't know how many people he would want knowing things like that. He lives by himself."  
"Oh. That's a shame…" she says before beaming again, "How about you tell him that whenever he'd like some company, he's more than welcome to come over here, okay? And if he needs any motherly love, I have plenty to share around," she laughs, and Peej and I smile at her, appreciative of her kind nature and the fact that she's always here for us. Then she stops laughing. "Dan, sweetie…" her voice drops, "What've you done to your arm?"

It's half four in the afternoon and Mum's dropping PJ and our friend Jessica off at their party. Apparently they'd volunteered to help set up and get things going. I'm nervous. I'm going to see Phil. My friend, Phil. That kissed me. That I kissed back! …I think. What's going to happen? Is he going to kiss me again? Is he going to expect that I kiss him? Does he think that kissing me was a mistake? He's never brought it up… not that we've had a million opportunities to talk about it, but still!  
"Dan, are you still here?" Jamie calls from the kitchen, and rather than yelling back to tell him I'm here, I get up and wander into the white and chocolate-grey kitchen, stopping at the breakfast bench and looking up at him.

"I'm here," I say, smiling smartly because yes, obviously he knows where I am now that I'm standing right in front of him.  
"Good, good," he answers with a smile, "Your mother filled me in about the glass last night and I had a look at the remains this afternoon and, seriously Dan, how do you manage these things?"  
"With great skill and super-human-like powers?" I suggest with an embarrassed shrug, I know that they talked to Peej about it in better detail after mum noticed the dressing, but I have this feeling in my stomach that they're not entirely convinced. This time, however, Jamie seems to accept my response.  
"What time are you leaving tonight?" he asks, continuing to dry the glasses and dishes from the dishwasher.

"In about fifteen minutes," I sigh. He pauses his wiping and looks at me for a moment as if he's trying to figure out what to say,  
"Where'd you say you were going tonight?" Jamie asks after a short moment.  
"To my friend's house," I tell him plainly, "His name's Phil."  
"Have I met Phil?" he genuinely looks as if he's trying to recall whether or not either PJ or I have mentioned him before.  
"No," I mumble, "Is that a problem…?" He contemplates for a second and looks down ever so slightly into my eyes with a somewhat serious expression before shaking his head.  
"No drugs, though," he laughs, and I join in, "No smoking, and no drinking."  
"No drugs, no smoking and no drinking," I repeat respectfully but with a playful smile. I know he means it, but he trusts me. I don't really have any use for those things anyway, we both know he has nothing to worry about in that sense.  
"How're you going anyway, mate?" he smiles at me, "You alright?"

Uh… That's a good question. I pull my lips into a smile and sit on the stool beside me,  
"Yeah, I'm fine," I say, taking a reasonable sized breath,  
"You're sure?" he makes sure, and I nod with a smile as he closes the glassware cupboard. "So, your friend, Phil?"  
"What about him?" I perk up, a little excited by the idea that I get to talk about him,  
"You two good friends?"  
"Getting there," I beam, "He's really great, like, he's such a good person, and he's confident about things and he's nice, and he's not resentful. It's just… impressive, you know?"  
"Sounds like you really like him," Jamie says with a smile, "Is he new?"

"He's new," I laugh,  
"Anything else I should know about him?" Jamie asks with a raised eyebrow. What does he mean by that?  
"Um, no?" I question, standing up and grabbing my set of keys from the hook by the fruit bowl, "What do you mean?" I decide to just ask him straight out.  
"I mean, is there anything else," he forces his throat to clear, "that I should know about him?"  
"Like what?" I breathe. I'm a little concerned now. I don't… I don't like where this is going, and I don't know what he's implying…  
"Nothing," he tugs at a small smile, "Just be safe and use protection, okay?"

Be safe? Use protection? What the fuck does that mean? I mean, I know what he means, but why the hell would he think that?!  
"What- What the hell are you talking about?" I ask, putting the keys down on the bench loudly.  
"Daniel, I know things. Your mum and I discuss most things, and she told me about Phil," He grins in amusement, "And about 'Philippa'… and while your mother hasn't quite put two and two together, I have."  
"And what have you calculated then?" I ask warily,  
"If you like this boy – Phil - then that's okay, you don't need to feel like you have to hide it," he smiles, walking around the bench and put his arm around me, "You know that your mum will support you no matter what, PJ's not going to think of you any differently either, he cares about you and you're the best friend he's ever had, and I'm always going to see you as my second son, no matter what. Now, I'm not going to say anything to your mum or anyone else, but as long as you know that nothing bad will happen if you choose to, then that's enough for me, alright?"

Oh my god. I resist the urge to slap my palm against my forehead and bite my lip instead, Jamie knows. How could I have been so careless? Holy fuck, I'm an idiot! I mean, he says that it's all fine and he's not yelling at me or disowning me or anything, and that's good. That's great! I can't even begin to explain the relief flowing through my body, I feel my legs wobble a little as my mind loses focus on doing the whole balance thing, and I lean against the breakfast bar.  
"Jamie…" I try to smuggle my smile, "I- uh… Thanks,"  
"You and PJ though, you're not…?" he queries, and I can't supress my grin or my laughter,  
"No, Jamie," I laugh, "PJ and I are not," I say, not completing my sentence as he knows exactly what I mean.  
"I didn't mean anything by that!" he justifies, "It's just that your mum found the two of you in your room this morning and a few times before and I never considered that maybe there was a possibility-"

"It's okay," I laugh again, but he continues rambling and I just stand there, listening in amusement until I properly tune in again,  
"…And then you two were sleeping in your room and had changed the bed sheets, and after it hit me I was a little worried because we've never really sat down and had a proper discussion about things like that, and- why are you giggling? Oh hell. I'm sorry, I'm not helping, am I?"  
"Not in the slightest, but it's funny, so you're forgiven," I chuckle.  
"The fact that you started laughing at the idea of a sex talk means that you're too young to be doing anything like that, so I trust you will take that into consideration," he nods exaggeratedly.  
"I would never dream of doing such things," I smirk, picking up my keys and beginning to walk toward the front door,  
"Prepare yourself for a proper talk tomorrow afternoon! Tell PJ his presence is mandatory!" He calls after me.

Phil's house has so much light in it, it's really pleasant and homely despite the fact that it's been poorly decorated by a teenaged boy. Phil crosses the room and tosses a throw blanket over a large lump of something in the corner as I step properly into the house.  
"How're you going, babe?" he asks, wandering back over to me, and I smile.  
"Not too horribly," I chuckle, "How about you?"  
"I haven't seen another human being since school yesterday," he laughs, "So, needless to say, I'm good. What's up, you look a little… weird?"  
"PJ's dad has made a time for him, PJ and I to sit down and have 'the talk'," I tell him with a skeptic and entertained face.

"Is he unaware of the fact that you're almost seventeen and not twelve?" He asks with a short laugh, "Or that pretty much everyone our age is already sexually active?"  
"I don't think he's unaware, per se," I say with a chuckle, "But more that he's very much aware of what goes on with everyone in the house and the fact that I… am not."  
"Ah," he says, "That's a bit cute." I open my mouth to protest but he beats me to it. "What happened to your arm?'  
"I, um…" I don't know what to tell him, he looks genuinely concerned,  
"It wasn't wrapped up like that yesterday, was it?" he asks again,  
"No, it was not," I confess awkwardly.

He seems to ponder a moment before running his hand from the tip of my shoulder and down my arm to hold it up a little by my hand.  
"What happened?" he asks again.  
"I knocked over a glass and then… the blood… happened?" I answer extremely ungracefully,  
"Jesus, Dan," he laughs, "You're in the wars lately, aren't you?"  
"Seems like it," I mumble.  
"You're really adorable," he chuckles, and squeezes my hand. I had completely forgotten he was still holding it, it just feels so natural, "Hey, Dan?"  
I smile at him, "Yeah?" I ask, stepping a little closer because, well, because why not? 

"You can say no, it's okay, I'll back off completely, but… can I kiss you again?" he asks me, and my stomach flips, my heart jumps in my chest and I feel warm and tingly all over, "If you don't want to, we can just be friends if, um… if you still want to be?"  
"Yeah…" I whisper as his other hand finds its way to my waist, "You can kiss me."  
He steps closer to me and I can feel my heart thumping erratically in my chest, he's getting closer, and closer, and suddenly I'm smiling into his lips. I want to kiss him back like a normal person probably would, but I can't stop the smile. His hand finds my face and strokes my cheek tenderly, his thumb brushing over my dimple, causing me to giggle a little, he chuckles too and his lips move to my cheek for a small peck and he moves away again, taking both of my hands in his.

I'm literally speechless.  
"Dan, are you going to say something?" he murmurs, and I shake my head, quickly fixing my hair,  
"No, are you?" I joke, unable to take in the situation properly without throwing in a stupid comment, but I guess it is okay because he's laughing.  
"You're not freaked out?" he asks,  
"Nope,"  
"Are you okay?"  
"I'm okay," I breathe, wishing I could spout off about how I feel such a strange, wonderful connection to him, how I feel safe with him, how everything bad disappears and falls away when I'm with him, how he's so incredible and how… how I want nothing more than to be close to him.

"I really like you, Dan… I know we haven't spent a huge amount of time together or anything, but I like you. You're… special, and adorable," he smiles shyly. I drop his hands and he looks scared, which is a look I'd never seen grace his features, it's a look I never want to see him portray again, and I wrap my arms around his waist, burying my face in his chest a little.  
"I like you too," I admit, "It's strange, and I like that."  
"Wanna play some video games?" he suggests with a chortle,  
"God, yes," I laugh, and he takes me into the living room, "I'm gonna beat you, though," I say sternly, and I do. I beat him at literally everything he pulls out, even with a slice of pizza in my hand, and suddenly it's been three and a half hours.

"Do you have a time you have to be home, or…?" Phil asks as the game's home screen pops back up on the TV,  
"Nope," I say, "Just whenever you kick me out," I joke, flopping onto the beanbag on the floor.  
"I guess that means you're moving in then," he replies with the most appealing chuckle,  
"Ha, ha, what time do you want me to go?" I ask, dropping my head back and looking at him from the awkward angle.  
"You could stay over if you want to?"  
"Are you sure?" I ask sceptically,  
"I'm sure," he smiles, "I like your company."

The night's gone by so quickly, Phil looks really good in the artificial lighting, better by far than the average person. There's something so appealing about his entire being, and there's a craving within me to be as close to him as possible. I trust him. He walks back into his bedroom, joining me, and begins to rummage through his drawers for something for the two of us to wear to bed. He tosses me a pair of tracksuit pants and begins to change in front of me, clearly not ashamed of his body in the slightest, not that he has anything to be embarrassed about – he's beautiful. I quietly suck in a breath of air as I take in his pale skin, his well-distributed body hair, the shape of his body, the dusting of a light pink on his exposed arms to contrast the white that may never have seen the sun. He's literally breath-taking. He catches me staring and grins a little, "You're not so bad yourself," he chuckles.

He catches my blush and looks down my body,  
"Sorry," I apologise, he just shakes his head and continues to smile at me.  
"Want me to leave so you can get dressed?" he asks, gesturing toward the door. I'm not sure what it is, but I don't want him to leave. I sort of want him to look at me the way I found myself staring at him, I want him to want me.  
"Nah, its fine," I say, lifting my shirt over my head and standing up, "You can stay." I unzip my jeans and let them drop to the floor. I pull on the tracksuit pants he provided me and sit back down, not bothering with a shirt or anything, and sure enough, he's checking me out.

We climb into his bed, as we'd already agreed to, and he pulls the duvet up over the two of us. The warmth settles its increase between us and I can still feel the cool night air, Phil shuffles a little and looks at me deeply,  
"You're really pretty," he says, and I hold in my laugh – very poorly.  
"You're breath-taking," I tell him, reflecting off of my earlier thoughts,  
"Isn't it weird that being breath-taking and taking someone's breath away mean the same thing? Unless, like, it's not breath-taking, as in taking a breath, but it's breath-taking as in taking their breath away, like… shortening it…" he whispers,  
"What even are you?" I laugh, "You're so…"  
"I know I am," he pokes his tongue out and slides his arm over my hips and around my waist, allowing me to shuffle close and cuddle against him, "You're so cute," he chuckles. 

"Alright," Jamie breathes as he takes a seat on the couch in front of PJ and me. He literally rearranged the living room for this. He moved the small loveseat directly in front of the large couch, placing the coffee table right in between.  
"Alright," PJ laughs at him, clearly not taking this as seriously as his dad would like,  
"Where's mum?" I ask,  
"I've sent your mum out to- actually, I didn't send her out anywhere, she said she wanted some new work shirts, so she's at the shops I think," Jamie replies, "Now. We're going to be having an important discussion today,"  
"The sex talk," PJ finishes.  
"Yes, PJ. The sex talk. I'm going to be taking this very seriously, and I expect the two of you to as well," he says, taking turns to look both of us in the eyes for affirmation.

"Are you boys comfortable having this talk together?" he asks us, and we both nod, "Good. Now, are either of you sexually active already?"  
"Dad, you know that we're not," PJ answers him,  
"Okay, yeah, but who knows what's happened since the last time I asked?" he looks at me and waits for me to respond. I shake my head.  
"You've never asked…" PJ comments,  
"Never asked YOU," Jamie says to him, and I laugh. PJ turns to look at me as if asking if his dad had spoken to me about it. I nod and PJ laughs, mumbling a giggly apology. Jamie focuses us again and we turn to look at him, "I'm just going to give you guys the basics. Condoms. Use them. You don't want to get a poor, young girl pregnant. Don't do that, it's bad and your mother and I aren't going to be paying for a baby. We pay for you two, we're not paying for our baby's babies."

"No babies, got it," PJ writes down in the note book that Jamie had provided for his "lesson",  
"Dan, no babies, understood?" Jamie confirms,  
"Not a problem," I force a small chuckle, breaking my silence. I'm a little wary of this conversation if I'm being honest,  
"STI's!" he exclaims, "Condoms prevent STI's!"  
"We know," PJ sasses him,  
"Quiet," he hushes PJ and continues, "When having sex with a girl or guy, you need to wear a condom. You don't know what he or she has, they don't know what you have, and just because someone says they're clean doesn't make it true."

"We're having the gay sex talk too?" PJ questions him, "Because we're not-"  
"We are all inclusive in this household, Peej. Maybe one day you'll want to have sex with another guy and you'll think, 'Wow! He's a guy and won't get pregnant! No condoms for me!' and then you've got chlamydia. Now you can never say I didn't warn you about that," he says seriously, and by this point, even I'm stifling a laugh because I KNOW he's only saying this for me, and the fact that he's thought about how to justify it to PJ is really nice and proves I can actually trust him, but it's just a little bit hilarious.  
"Okay, inclusive household," PJ repeats, "But dad, is this because you somehow heard one of the school rumours about me being gay? Because they've been going around since I was like, fourteen, and continued because I still haven't had a girlfriend…"  
"No, PJ, this is not about school rumours, and you know that I know about them because you used to complain about it to me, it was only a few years ago and dads never forget anything important!"

"One time you forgot about be at the supermarket and drove home without me," I say, cutting into what had turned into a conversation strictly between the two of them, and PJ bursts out laughing. I remember that day well, actually, an old lady sat on a bench with me while I waited for Jamie to come back for me after I called and informed him of his mistake. She bought me a lollypop because, despite being fourteen at the time, I must've looked about six through old-lady-vision.  
"I apologised and we got McDonalds on the way home!" Jamie laughs, justifying himself,  
"Yeah, on the second trip home," I laugh back.  
"Why didn't I get McDonalds?" PJ pouts and crosses his arms, "I feel neglected as a child."  
"You're almost eighteen, Peej," I tell him, "You barely even count as a child."

"Anyway!" Jamie claps and brings us back to attention, "Sex."  
"Dad, we're not thirteen, we know all of these things. We have internet access, and sex education in school every two years, not to mention the fact that Dan's almost seventeen, and I'm almost eighteen, we know what's what," PJ informs him, probably shattering his dreams of ever having the opportunity to embarrass his children during "the talk".  
"I know, I know," he says, picking up an old magician's hat from under the coffee table. PJ and I just stare at it. What the hell is he doing with that old thing? I didn't even know we still had it, it was from when Peej and I were like, nine, and had to do a magic show for the class. It was before we were a family, that's how old it is. "We're playing a modified version of twenty questions!" He slides five cards each across the coffee table to each of us, "I've got ten pre-made questions in the hat, then you guys write five each, you can have more if you want, and we mix them in the hat and I answer them all, and because I have the pre-made questions, you won't know what the other has asked!"

I have to admit, Jamie's idea was good, but after an hour and a half of listening to answers to questions we didn't have, I felt brain dead. I take in a deep breath as PJ opens the door to my bedroom, smiling at him when he's greeted with the sight of me laying on my bed with my head hanging upside-down over the edge. We escaped from Jamie's well-meant talk about twenty-five minutes ago and apparently PJ can't think of anything to keep him occupied now either.  
"You're gonna give yourself a headache," he chuckles, shutting the door and making his way over to sit next to my contorted body,  
"I already have one," I say, "I'm waiting to see how long it takes for me to go blind or something."  
"Sounds productive. Sit up," he says, and I obey, feeling very warm and throb-y throughout my head as I sit up and feel the blood drain from my red face, "Dad was pretty adamant about his inclusiveness of other sexualities today, huh?" he says.  
"I noticed," I agree,  
"Which one of us do you think he thinks is gay?" he asks with a giggle,  
"Me," I reply truthfully, and PJ laughs, of course he laughs, he doesn't know that it's more than a hunch on Jamie's part.

PJ doesn't know that Jamie only thinks I'm gay because I led him to think so, PJ also doesn't know that even I think I might be gay. I don't even know what I am anymore. Maybe I'm gay. Yeah, maybe I am gay. Or bi. I've been trying to figure this out for months and I… I don't want to be gay, or bi, or anything else but straight. I have nothing against people that aren't straight, they're people, they're human, they're just like anyone else – except for the homophobic comments, bullying, unequal marriage, lack of rights and lack of equality in general. I don't want to be bullied. I don't want people to make homophobic comments toward me. I don't want to be treated as less than human by such a large percentage of the human population. I don't want to handle that. I can't handle that. I shouldn't have to handle that. No one should. Just because Jamie says that it's not a problem and that our family will be fine, which alleviates just one of my concerns about it, doesn't mean that everyone else will be. And that really, really scares me.

"Oh good," PJ grins, "So my dad doesn't think I'm a colossal homo, always good news," he laughs and I force out one too, even I can hear how fake it is. "You okay?" he asks me.  
"Yeah, I just have a lot on my mind," I breathe, "And you know, school's tomorrow."  
"Ah yes, school," PJ dramatizes, "The place where the spirits of young students go to die."  
"Yup," I confirm, laying back down on my bed, this time without my head hanging off the side,  
"So you hung out with Phil yesterday?" PJ changes the subject, and thank god he does because the last thing I want to be thinking about on a Sunday afternoon is school tomorrow.  
"I did," I answer him with a small smile,  
"What'd you guys do?"  
"Video games, food, talked, slept," I list off some of the activies that we partook in,  
"Sounds… fun?" he chortles, "What do you guys even have to talk about? Like, I'm glad you're friends and I want you to be friends, because he and I are sort of friends and we talk in class and stuff, but like… you're a bit different?"

"You and I are a bit different," I remind him, "And you and Chris are VERY different,"  
"Yeah, I know, but… You and Chris were horrible to him and, yeah, it was mostly Chris, but how do you just turn that around? How do you go from being an absolute dick to him to being his closest friend from our school?" PJ asks, not only sounding confused, but… jealous?  
"We talked, I got to know him, I acknowledged that I was a dick, I apologised, and he forgave me while also getting to know me and deciding that he likes me," I orate, "Phil has some really good qualities such as not being a resentful ass."  
"Chris told me that Phil's gay," PJ blurts out, "He told me to watch out for him,"  
"Please tell me you told him to grow up or something," I roll my eyes and I hope PJ sees, "Just because someone's gay doesn't mean that they're automatically interested in you because you happen to be the gender they're attracted to."  
"I know, I know… But I've seen the way he looks at you in class…" Peej hesitates,  
"And?"  
"And… I just wanted to make sure that you knew that, because… I don't know, just in case he tries something?" PJ vocalises, and I can tell he's embarrassed about doing so the second the sentence leaves his mouth.

"Peej, if you try something with a girl and she makes it known that she's not interested, what do you do?" I ask him, irritated now,  
"Back off?" he suggests, and I nod.  
"Yeah, you back off. Just like he would if a guy told him he wasn't interested, same with any person that's not straight. They're not predators, they're normal people," I inform him with a harsh tone. PJ seems to think about this for a moment before nodding,  
"You're right," his opinion sways, "I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd get so… uptight about this."  
"I accept your apology," I say, deliberately not telling him that it's alright, because it isn't, "But don't call me uptight for trying correct you and maybe, I don't know, educate you a little."  
"Okay," PJ agrees, "Alright."


	5. Chapter 5

I really like Phil's shoulders. I like them a lot. I like how broad they are, I like their size, shape, I like how when I had my arms wrapped around his neck earlier, his shoulders felt like they could support my entire weight. I like how even now, in class, I'm sitting at the perfect angle to admire his shoulders. God, they are hot. He's hot. He's hot and I'm a complete and utter homosexual. I've decided. Well, I didn't exactly decide it, but I've decided not to fight it anymore and just let myself be feel whatever I feel, even if that means I'm not straight, so that I can enjoy Phil without feeling any guilt whatsoever. No one has to know, do they? Of course Jamie knows, and Phil sort of knows, as far as Phil knows, I'm still figuring things out, but the fact that I've kissed him more than just that first time probably goes in the direction of him leaning toward my sexuality being one that is attracted to the male species.

"Dan, can you do this for me?" Chris whines, "I don't want to do this."  
"What makes you think I want to do it?" I laugh,  
"I dunno, you're not entirely unintelligent," he shrugs, "Look at that Lester guy," he laughs this time, "He's got his coloured pencils out and everything."  
"I like colouring," I say, and Chris looks at me as if I've grown a horn in the centre of my forehead, "Could you maybe not be a dick to him?" I ask.  
"What's he got on you?" he hisses, "Seriously, Dan. What's the deal?"  
"We're friends," I tell him, "Pretty good friends actually,"  
"I thought he was sort of friends with PJ?" Chris queries,  
"He is, but he's my friend too, and I like him,"  
"You know he's gay though, right?" he asks, and maybe I really go have a horn growing out of my forehead or something.  
"Yeah, so?" I shut him down, "What's your problem with that anyway?"

He seems to think about my question for a moment or so before shrugging, and telling me he doesn't know. He takes a deep breath and scribbles something down on a piece of scrap paper before pushing it across the desk to me, avoiding eye contact.  
 _"I'm sorry_ ," the note says, and I fold it up and shove it into my pencil case before the teacher can notice it.  
"Why are you sorry?" I ask quietly,  
"Because I'm slowly starting realise how much of a jerk I am to everyone."  
"Yeah, I know how you feel," I chuckle quietly, "Can I ask you something?"  
"Yeah?"

"You're not like, a homophobe or something, are you?" I ask him, and he looks down for a moment before meeting my gaze again,  
"It's not about him being gay, Dan…" he shakes his head and takes in a breath, "It's about finding a person's weakness and targeting it."  
"That's fucking awful," I reply, looking up quickly to make sure the teacher hasn't noticed anything, which she, quite thankfully, hasn't.  
"It's better than being like him," Chris retorts distastefully and pulls his focus back to the lesson, after that he doesn't look at me. I know he says that it's not about Phil's sexuality, but honestly, I think it might be. You'd have to be dumb not to pick up on that, right? Like, it's not just me being paranoid about my own sexuality, is it? I let out a deep sigh and Chris's eyes shift to me for a moment, but he stays quiet and quickly withdrawals his gawk. I definitely think that his problem with Phil is that he's gay… so where does this put Chris and I as friends? Is he going to hate me too? Do I really want to continue a friendship with somebody like this?

"Dan?" mum calls as I close the front door behind me with a click that she must've heard from the dining room. I follow the general direction of her voice and she's sitting at the large dining table with a spread of papers in front of her.  
"That looks fun," I murmur, taking a set next to her and picking up a few of the pieces of paper. They're bills and receipts, and that can only mean one thing. Taxes. Mum hates taxes. I'm sure most adults hate taxes, but mum hates them with a burning, fiery passion. Mum and taxes go together about as well as oil and water.  
"You like maths, right?" she smiles at me hopefully,  
"I'm not the top of the class, nor the most enthusiastic, but I think I could perhaps be of assistance," I smile, dragging the calculator from under her fingers, "You know, you can hire people to do this," I laugh.  
"Why would I do that when I have you?" she pokes out her tongue.

"Do you and PJ ever use the study, or do you just hide out in your rooms?" she asks, abruptly changing the subject.  
"We hide out in our rooms," I chuckle, "Or we do this," I say, gesturing the display of work before us on the dining table. She nods and thinks for a minute, grabbing my hand and standing up to lean down and hug me. Now, mum is a little strange sometimes, but she has a tendency to actually make sense, unlike how she is now. This was odd even for her, "Mum, are you alright?" I ask.  
"Hmm? Oh, yes," she laughs, "If you can get through this small pile here," she says, tapping on the smallest pile on the table, "Before dinner, I'll double your allowance this week. Fair deal?"  
"Sounds like a plan," I say as she glides through to the open kitchen and starts the night's meal.

"Do you think something's wrong?" PJ asks, draping himself over the top half of my bed. Over dinner, mum continued to ask weird questions and justify them just as strangely. Even Jamie seemed a little concerned for her, all in all, it was an interesting evening. PJ and I headed straight up to "hide in our rooms" and after about ten minutes he ended up joining me in my room.  
"I don't think anything's wrong," I tell him, "She might be stressed, I mean, she was attempting taxes this afternoon," I laugh.  
"Remember last year when she was so overwhelmed by them that she put all of the papers in the dishwasher instead of the plates?" PJ snickers with a grin, and yes, I do. Like I said, mum and taxes just don't work.

"I think I might ask Mia out," he suddenly blurts out,  
"Jessica's sister?" I enquire, "As in, her twin? You want to ask out the identical twin of your closest female friend? Really?"  
"It does sound a bit sus…" he admits, "Okay, I might not ask her out. I don't like her like that anyway," he shrugs.  
"Then why would you ask her out?" I ask, "You're making about as much sense as mum is tonight," I laugh, "And Jessica would probably kill you."  
"I don't know… I'm literally the only guy in our grade not to have had a girlfriend or something and I know that she likes me…" he sighs, I can tell that he knows it would be a bad idea.  
"Phil hasn't had a girlfriend," I look at him innocently and he laughs.  
"Phil's still been in a relationship," PJ chuckles, "You know what I mean though. Everyone's off with their girlfriends and boyfriends, kissing, holding hands, having sex, and what am I doing?! I'm studying, I'm helping in musical productions, and I'm drawing. You've at least had girlfriends, Dan!" He pauses for a moment and I don't speak, he looks like he's about to say something else. "How come you never slept with any of them?"

Why didn't I ever sleep with any of them? That's a good question, but one I don't think I really want to answer. Not now. Not ever.  
"It didn't feel like the right time," I shrug,  
"Didn't you want to though?" he asks, "I know that Sarah wanted to, like, she came up to me and started demanding answers when you, apparently, turned her down."  
"Did she really do that?" I whine and PJ nods, "Jesus Christ. I didn't want to sleep with her because I wasn't ready to do that with her, okay?"  
"Sounds like a good enough reason to me," he shrugs, "Mum says you like someone though," he laughs this time, "Why would you tell her and not _me_?"  
"Because she pulled it out of me," I join him in quiet laughter, "But yes, I do like someone, and no, I'm not telling you who it is until a few more things are worked out."  
"Aw," he pouts, "Fine…" he gets up and heads toward the door, "I'll see you in morning," he says, and then he's gone. 

I had the dream again. I can't even think about the dream, it's horrible, it's… sickening. It's traumatising, and it replays in my mind from time-to-time, sometimes through dreams or if I let my conscious thoughts wander too much. I don't think I can go to school today. Not after that. Not after the dream. I know I've been wavering a bit in my moods, unsure of whether or not I'm actually feeling more depressed than normal, but today I just know that I can't go to school. If I have to go to school, I do very much believe that I would throw myself off of the roof of one of the tallest school buildings. Without really being fully aware of it, I start playing with the rubber band on my bedside table, stretching it between my fingers before it rolls down my hand and stops at my wrist, pricking up some of arm-hair in the process.  
"Dan, sweetie, you up?" mum calls from behind the door, and I can't answer her. I can't bring myself to open up my mouth and speak, and it scares me because I don't know why. "Dan?" she knocks again, harder this time, and her voice is a little louder too. I'm just laying here. Silent. Unable to move myself, unable to motivate myself to do anything but allow to eyes to wander around the room, wide open, blinking only when necessary, "Daniel?" her voice sounds worried now. I'm playing with the band again. This time just pulling it out and allowing it to slap back against my skin repeatedly.

She knocks on my door again and I can hear a second voice from just outside my door,  
"Is everything okay?" he asks mum, and I don't hear her give him an affirmation or a denial,  
"…Just go down stairs, honey, and can you send your dad up, I think he's in the kitchen?" I hear her tell the owner of the voice, it's obviously PJ. Suddenly I'm feeling really guilty. I'm worrying her enough that she hasn't even opened the door for fear of what she might find,  
"Daniel?" Jamie calls out after a couple of minutes with another rap on the door, "Dan, are you awake?"  
There's some muffled whispering outside the door and I can't make out what they're saying,  
"Sweetie, we're coming in," my mother's scared voice projects through the wood. The door handle turns and the door is pushed open. Mum's face looks as terrified as her voice had sounded.

"Dan, is there a reason you didn't answer us?" Jamie asks, carefully picking his words so that they don't sound like an accusation. I can't speak. All I can feel is the tremble in my jaw and the same feeling again as it somehow travels down my arms. "Daniel, what's going on?" his voice seems to soften as the tears begin to form in my eyes. Fucking hell, I'm so pathetic… This is ridiculous. What are they going to write on my note to the school?  
 _"To Whom It May Concern,  
Daniel Howell was unable to attend school today as he was feeling too sad to get out of bed.  
Thank you,  
Mr and Mrs Liguori."_?  
Yeah, not fucking likely.

"Honey, are you okay?" mum asks, sitting by me and pressing her hand against my forehead. This time I manage to answer simply by shaking my head. I'm not okay, and I'm not going to lie about it because lying just feels too exhausting right now. "Baby, what's the matter?" she continues, wrapping her arms around me a little as he holds me up from my bed. All I can muster is a small whimper. Almost a squeak. Pathetic. After a few more moments of mothering, she lets me back down against my pillow and she's moved away to whisper something to Jamie.  
"Dan, I need you to use your words, okay?" Jamie coaxes, "Do you want to talk to just your mum, or just me, or both of us? It's up to you, and those are your options, but if you don't say anything, none of us can help, okay?" It's probably a little helpful to our situation that Jamie's a senior social worker with a Masters in Social Sciences, he at least knows how to not be an ignorant jerk in regards to my… issues.

I take in a deep breath, preparing myself for speech, I can't even explain why it's so difficult today, and slowly, I'm speaking,  
"Jamie." If I have to talk to someone about something that I can't talk to anyone about, I'd rather it not be my mum. She doesn't deserve to hear her son talk about things like that; she deserves happiness, and love, and support. A good family like Jamie and PJ. Mum nods and kisses my forehead before smiling lovingly at me and letting herself out, closing the door behind her on her walk downstairs to the kitchen, probably to talk to PJ and tell him everything's okay.  
"Talk to me?" Jamie suggests as he takes a seat next to me where mum was sitting before,  
"I can't go to school," I state bluntly.

Jamie seems to think this over for a second before answering me,  
"Okay, and can you tell me what reason there might be for that?" he asks.  
"Because I don't feel okay."  
"Physically not okay, or…?"  
"Both. Everything. All of it," I tell him quietly, and I'm not lying.  
"Did something trigger this, or have you been feeling more down than usual and today it's just too much?" he enquires, "I've noticed you behaving a little differently again."  
"Both." I repeat in a small voice, addressing his first question.  
"Okay," he smiles reassuringly with a small, knowing, nod, "Let's talk about what's triggered this, then we don't need to worry about school today. Sound okay? Doable?"  
"Okay," I answer, because while usually I'd throw myself from bed and launch myself from a cannon to get away from talking about anything, I can't bring myself to even drag myself from my bed.  
"Alright," he smiles again, "We're doing well, it's not even eight in the morning and we've gotten one thing sorted."

"I had a dream… I think it might have been a nightmare," I say, too tired to lie. It sounds totally pitiful, laughable even, "It was my dad."  
"Oh, I'm sorry, Dan… Do you want to talk about it? It might help if you do," his calm voice suggests. I nod, and he smiles his reassuring smile once more.  
"It's a memory. Lots of memories. Similar memories, but they're all so different, but also the same… Actually, I can't talk about it," I stop myself before the tears spill, "Jamie… I hate him. I hate him because I love him, and I hate him because…" oh no, here come the water works, "because I miss him so much even though…" and I can't finish because I'm sobbing. I'm sitting in bed and sobbing to PJ's dad. I'm fucking pitiful.  
"Even though?" he encourages me, and he looks a little wide-eyed because I've never spoken about my dad to him before. Not once in the last ten years have I spoken about him to Jamie. Or mum. Never mum. Never.  
"Even though he hurt me by leaving and- and…" I cry quietly.

"I'm sorry, Dan," he says solemnly, "It must be really hard knowing he's out there somewhere, and trying to cope with feelings about him, but I do know that that's completely normal, so you're not crazy or anything," he says, obviously trying to instil some sort of confidence in me.  
I'm sure he's right. I'm sure it is normal to struggle with things like your dad leaving you, but it's more than that, and I don't know how to tell him. Or anyone.  
"Yeah," I shudder, and drop my head so that I'm looking at my duvet-covered right leg and almost bare left leg that's hanging out from under the covers, and close my eyes, listening to Jamie.  
"You're so strong without him, Dan. Look at you, you're smart, and a hard worker, and a good person. No, you're not perfect. Yes, you're struggling with some things, but you're an incredible person," he says and places his hand just on the top of my knee, and I almost yell out the words that come from my mouth, high in pitch and quick in succession. Too fast for me to even know what I'm saying. What the hell just happened?! Why did I react like that?! What did I even say?!

I look up and see that Jamie's moved away. No. No! I'm a freak and I've scared him off! Another dad gone because of me. No. Oh, no, it's hit me. I practically screamed, "No, dad! Please don't touch me!"  
Oh no. Oh god. What have I done? I'm crying, and I'm panicking. Oh no. I've fucked up, I've really fucked up. Why can't I stop crying, for fuck's sake?!  
"Dan…" Jamie finally speaks up after what's probably been minutes of my crying and silently begging the gods for him to forget this entire conversation, "Dan, I need you to talk to me, okay? This is very important,"  
"No," I state, "No, it is not important. I lied and I'm sorry, you can ground me and we can forget about this."  
"Dan, this is important because you are important. I know it wasn't a lie, Daniel, and no, I can't just forget about this," he informs me.  
I shake my head, "Please?" I beg him, "Please, let's just pretend this never happened. This never happened because that never happened."  
"What never happened?" He asks strategically,  
"My dad, n-never," I stutter, "…he never d-did anything like… Th-that."

Stuttering? Really?! Fucking hell, brain! Can't you just help me be convincing for like, one fucking moment?! He's looking at me, obviously too scared to move closer for fear of my reaction, but too scared to move further away because doesn't want to seem like he's not here for me. He's unsure of what to say, concerned that if he says the wrong thing I'll shatter into a million pieces but genuinely terrified that if he doesn't say anything I'll never open up again – he'll never have another opportunity. It's clear that he doesn't know what to do. If I were one of his cases it would be different, he would handle this professionally, but this is personal to him. He loves me. I'm essentially his child. Actually, he adopted me years ago, I'm legally his child too. This is different. I think I'm done sobbing. There are still some tears, but no more heaving.

"J-Jamie… I'm sorry…" I utter in what seems to be the quietest voice I've ever used,  
"You've done nothing wrong," he says, "You have nothing to be sorry for, okay?"  
"Yeah…" I breathe, avoiding eye contact.  
"I don't want to pressure you into talking about this, but I need you to understand the importance of this okay? You know that talking about this, even if it's not to me, is really important and that this is very serious," he says, still careful not to move, or touch me, or even look at me for too long. I knew this would happen. I knew things would change. It hasn't even been a few minutes and things are changing and- oh no. Oh no. He's going to tell mum. No.  
"Please don't tell mum," I beg, eyes wide and full of terror, "Please don't tell her. Or anyone. Please."

"We'll work this out, okay? We'll sort things out so that you're comfortable with whatever happens and so that we know that you're alright as well. We don't need to tell anyone right now, you and what you want are the most important factors right now," he says calmly.  
"Don't you- don't you have to go to work?" I ask, hoping that he'll look at the time and fly out the door to work and leave me for a while, but his gaze on my features doesn't waver in the slightest and he shakes his head.  
"I don't work on Tuesdays," he reminds me, "Remember?"  
Oh. Right. I picked a fucking great day to ruin my own life.

"Please don't think I'm… whatever, but um… could you maybe hug me?" I ask awkwardly and breathily, Jamie nods and gives me a smile that I can really only identify as safe. He shuffles closer to me and wraps his arms around my trembling body, and I feel safer than I ever have in my entire life. Now Jamie knows all of my secrets, and while that's terrifying, it's also comforting.  
"I'm going to go talk to your mum and let her know that you and I are going to spend some time to sort things out today," he tells me, pulling away from me gently as I nod in response, "I'm not going to tell her what's happened, alright? I'm just going to tell her that we're okay and that she can go to work and PJ can go to school."

Exhausted, I flop down onto my bed and bury myself in my blankets, taking in a deep breath and closing my eyes. Jamie and I talked all day. The second mum and PJ left, both reluctantly of course, Jamie suggested we migrate to the living room and from there he set up an appointment for next week to give me some time to think about things and decide if I want to talk to him or someone else. Our conversations were all over the place. I didn't go into any detail whatsoever about what happened with my dad. I'm not ready for that. I don't know if I ever will be, but I know that now I might not have that luxury. We talked about my medication, and my school work, and PJ, and Phil, and Chris, and me, and my mental health stuff, and for a little while I did vent about how I miss my dad despite everything. It was a strange, terrifying and confronting day. I'm just thankful that he didn't send me off somewhere. Don't ask me where, I have no idea, but for some reason it was a legitimate concern in the back of my mind. 

There's a light tap at my door and PJ opens it before I can answer, he knows he's allowed to do that, and he lets himself in, closing the door behind him. He climbs under the covers beside me and wraps his arms around my curled up body. I've been in and out of bed for the last couple of hours while Jamie stayed downstairs to get some things done.  
"Are you okay?" he asks,  
"Yeah," I say, "Just crazy day,"  
"Dad said not to ask you too much about it…" he trails off, and I roll over to face him properly.  
"It's okay. You can ask whatever you want," I tell him, because I know he's not going to be able to even think of anything like what's really going on and knowing he has the freedom to ask will probably put his mind more at ease. He's not going to be anywhere near close to spot on.

"What happened this morning?" he asks, scanning my eyes for answers, "You didn't try to do anything, did you..?  
"No, Peej! No, no, I wouldn't do that to you guys. I felt really bad. Like, really bad. So bad that the idea of going to school today made me want to legitimately die," I answer him honestly, "Your dad really helped though. A lot."  
"You didn't miss anything today, he informs me and takes a deep breath, "Why don't you refer to him as your dad too? You know that he is, and I know that you have your own dad, but…"  
"Because I'm scared to use that word. I don't want him to leave me too…" I answer, my voice quiet and meek, "When someone asks about my 'dad', like a normal person asking a normal question, assuming I'm from a normal family situation, I think of Jamie. I think of your dad. But I feel like there's some barrier, and I don't know what it is, but it's there and as long as it's in place, I don't think I could call him that."

PJ seems to think about this for a moment before nodding,  
"Okay," he says, letting out a deep breath, "Phil asked about you today."  
Phil asked about me? He asked about me when I wasn't at school? He cares about me? I can't help but smile at the idea that he thinks about me when I'm not around. PJ catches my smile,  
"I'll have to call him later and tell him I'm not dead," I joke, "He's coming over on Friday," I tell PJ.  
"Yeah?"  
"Yeah. I know you're not going to be home, but it seemed to fit well because mum and Jamie won't be home either. It'll be kind of relaxed, you know?" I beam,  
"That's good," he smiles back, "I think Phil is a good friend for you. I mean, he's a good person, and you need that."  
"Don't we all?" I chuckle, and PJ moves in closer with a light laugh, "I'm sorry for being so difficult," I tell him, closing my eyes because who knew that crying so much could make you so tired?  
"Don't worry about it, it's not your fault" he whispers, and his grip loosens a little as he closes his eyes and he joins me in drifting off to sleep. 

"Boys, it's twenty minutes until dinner!" mum's voice calls out, jolting me from my slumber, and PJ's rubbing his eyes, clearly just having been woken up as well. I curl myself up a little more and feel a slight disruption in the process. Oh no. I'm hard. Oh god. I quickly roll over, facing away from PJ in an attempt to hide my shame, and holy fuck, it's not going away. Apparently my brain is making up for not having seen Phil today by having some REALLY inappropriate dreams about him…  
"Twenty minutes of sleep until food," PJ mutters, pulling the duvet up over his exposed arms,  
"Hey, Peej?" I say shakily, and he responds with a grunt, "I forgot to ask, can you grab me that book from your room, the, um… one for English?" I ask,  
"Now?" he moans,  
"Please?" I ask, "Before I forget or lose motivation to finish off the question sheet on it?" PJ groans slightly and drags himself from my bed, and I instantly feel the shift in temperature now that he's gone into his room to find the book. The second he's out the door, I grab my towel, draping it over the 'affected area' and bolt to the bathroom, shutting the door behind me and turning on the shower to… take care of my problem before he knows what's happening.

The second I step out of the bathroom, redressed in the same pyjamas as earlier because, let's be honest, I couldn't care less about what I'm wearing today, PJ comes out of his room and looks at me with a strange stare.  
"Mum says it's dinner in like, five minutes," he says, "I left the book on your bed, and um…"  
"And what?" I ask, and he stops for a second and I notice there's something in his hand. My phone.  
"…You got a text," he mumbles, "I went to put the book on your bed and it started vibrating and-"  
"Chill, I've never cared if you read my texts before, what's the matter?" I ask, taking a few steps forward as he hands me the phone. It's from Phil,  
 _"Received 6:23pm – Phil: Missed you today, babe ;) xx"_

I can practically read the smirk in his text, the really cute one that makes him seem all dominant, yet completely adorable, at the same time.  
"Dan, are you sure you're not giving him the wrong impression?" PJ finally asks, breaking the momentary silence.  
"I'm sure, Peej. We're friends, we muck around! Me and you say things like that to each other sometimes, it's nothing," I answer,  
"Yeah, except neither one of us is gay and we've been friends for longer than five minutes," he retorts, and I don't know why but I suddenly feel a little hurt, ergo a little defensive too.  
"What if I was gay?" I proposition him, "What if I was gay, would you still treat me exactly the same? Stupid little comments like that and all?"  
"I- well, yeah… You're my best friend, but that's different," he says, "You and I are pretty much brothers, we're best friends, we're very different from you and Phil. I'm just worried that maybe you're giving him the wrong impression…"  
"I'm not."  
"Have you, I don't know, told him that you're straight?" PJ asks slowly,

"PJ, Phil and I have talked a lot more about my sexuality than you and I ever have," I say coldly, "He doesn't have the wrong idea." I turn away from him and hurry down the stairs with tears in my eyes because apparently that's how I'm responding to things now. With tears. I don't know why that conversation has affected me so much, but suddenly I'm sitting at the dining table across from Jamie, whom looks at me with concern once more. Before he can say a word I shake my head, and with that PJ is sitting next to Jamie on the other side of the table. Not even mum's funny anecdote about her day is enough to lighten the mood. Dinner is uncomfortable, to say the least.


	6. Chapter 6

"It's _absolutely lovely_ to see you here today," a calming voice chirps and I feel him take a seat next to me at the back of my English classroom. I lift my head from my desk and look up at him with tired eyes,  
"Hi Phil," I murmur,  
"What's up, buttercup?" he asks, nudging my arm by pressing the side of his body against me for a second.  
"Not me," I croak,  
"Not you?" he repeats, "You're not up?"  
"No, not me. I'm not up."  
"Why're you in here so early? Class doesn't start for another twenty-five minutes or something," he asks, and I shrug. He dips his head down to kiss my exposed cheek, "Cheer up, sweetheart."  
"Maybe later."

"How come you weren't in the past few days?" he enquires, "Are you alright?"  
"I couldn't be here, I wasn't… okay," I answer.  
"Well, you picked the perfect day to show up because there's seven mice in Mr Tacker's desk," Phil laughs and this peaks my interest so I sit up a little.  
"…Why?" I almost laugh,  
"Because Jacob put them in there yesterday afternoon, I was in here with- I was in here and he didn't know, so I watched him put the mice in there," he explains.  
"Who were you in here with?" I ask, caring a lot more than I probably should.  
"Oh, uh- just… Tracy," he says and he sounds almost shy about it, "I needed some help with some stuff and she offered so…"  
"That's really nice of her," I smile, "Can you do me a favour?" I request.  
"Sure," he smiles back, eager to do what he can to help me,  
"Could you maybe kiss me?" I blush, biting my lip a little, and he lets out a relieved laugh as though he were expecting me to ask him to kill a man.

Phil nods a little and leans in, kissing me gently on the lips for a short moment before pulling away.  
"You're so calming," I chuckle lightly, feeling a little better already, "I like you. Are you still coming over tonight?"  
"I'll come over and keep you calm all night long," he winks before shaking it off and continuing, "Because I like you too."  
"You're great," I lean my frame against him and he puts his arm around me, it feels safe. I like the way I feel when he's around. He's strong, and confident, and inspiring, and calming, and intimidating, and confusing, and wonderful. It's a concoction, a potion of emotion, if you will.  
"I'd very much enjoy spending some more time alone with you," he smirks,  
"Just a few more hours and I'm all yours," I laugh, "Mum and PJ's dad are going to help arrange some stuff at my gran's nursing home this weekend, da- I mean Jamie, left this morning and mum's going after work, and PJ's staying over at Chris's," I smile and Phil separates us properly before quickly leaning in for another kiss before someone walks into the classroom, closely followed by several other students, all blissfully unaware.

The day passed quickly, thank god. I, somehow, managed to catch up on everything at lunch with PJ, Chris, and Phil's help, and it was… interesting. Phil and Chris were getting along. I think PJ might've spoken to Chris about it too, and as it turns out, he and Phil share some similar interests. After the blissful walk home, I open the front door and invite Phil inside,  
"Your house is really nice," Phil exhales as we put our stuff down by the door. "It's got the whole family-feel-thing going on,"  
"Yeah," I smile, "It's the best house mum and I have lived in. I don't know if it's the physical house and location or if it's the family that came along with the move, but it's my favourite."  
"You and PJ are really close, aren't you?" He asks rhetorically as we enter the kitchen, "What do you guys do if your parents are fighting? Like, do neither of you side with your parents or anything?"

"Mum and Jamie don't really fight. I don't remember them ever fighting, if I'm honest. If they do they must purposely keep it from me and Peej," I answer pulling the jug of water from the fridge, "Want a drink?"  
Phil shakes his head, "No, thanks," he smiles, "I don't know your parents, but I like them."  
"I like them too," I laugh, "My mum's stopping in before she leaves, she says it's to pick up extra suit cases she didn't want to leave in the car at work, but it's really to make sure we're okay and that I haven't brought home a fifty-seven year old internet predator," I laugh,  
"It's a good thing I'm only a fifty-six year old internet predator, then," he smirks at me, "Daniel Howell, you're very attractive."  
"You're sort of really sexy…" I murmur, and he pulls me in close to him. I kiss his neck and he pushes me away gently,  
"Careful, cupcake," he sniggers, "Your mum might come home you'll have some explaining to do,"  
"Mum would probably sit you down and grill you on your intentions toward her son," I laugh. 

Mum was always doing that. The mum thing. She did it in the best way possible though, so it was more entertaining than annoying. Phil laughs back at me with a look of understanding, and he- wait. Phil's parents. What if his mum used to check up on him and make sure he was okay? What if his dad used to laugh and joke around with him about silly little things like his mum trying to convince them to eat actual meals that don't come from a microwave, like what Jamie, Peej, and I do? I can't imagine what it would be like to lose all that… How does someone learn to live without their loving family knowing that they're not there for them anymore? I think that that would be the most painful experience a person could suffer. I sort of understand, having lost my dad like that, but that was different. That wasn't my mum, my dad, and my older brother. That was just my horrible, horrible father. 

"Dan, you alright?" Phil's voice interrupts my thoughts,  
"What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine. Are you?" I respond.  
"Why wouldn't I be?" He asks, wrapping his arm around my waist as I lead the way toward the bench,  
"Don't you miss your family?" I ask, fully aware of how insensitive a question it is but honestly not really caring. It's all that can occupy my thoughts.  
"I do, but they're still my family and I know they love me," he smiles, a hint of reminiscence shimmers in his eyes as we're walking toward the breakfast bar, "Don't worry about me and my family, I'm fine."

Phil and I are sitting on the little breakfast-bar stools by the kitchen, quite awkwardly if I must say so myself. I don't even think that I'd call it sitting, actually, it's more of a perch.  
"You seem a little distracted, sweet," Phil laughs, and I turn to look at him properly. I'm still thinking about his family and his situation. I feel sorry for him, and yeah, I know that's completely hypercritical because I hate when people feel sorry for me and I know that Phil doesn't want to be portrayed as a victim, but I can't help it. Suddenly I can understand where other people are coming from in regards to having an absentee father.  
"Huh? Oh. Sorry, PJ said he was going to come home and grab some stuff before he goes to Chris's," I say, and suddenly there's a click at the front door, "And that must be him now," I smile. Phil lets out a brief laugh and his eyes do that thing where he looks at me like I'm the most precious human on this earth, and I want more than anything in the world to cuddle into him and sprinkle little kisses all over his face.

"Dan?" PJ calls out as I stand from my wobbly stool, "Are you home?" he asks, his usual-as-of-late concerned tone ringing through the first story of the house.  
"Yeah, we're in here!" I yell in his general direction and Phil looks a little nervous but his demeanour quickly changes when PJ enters the bright and open area between the kitchen and the dining room.  
"Hey," PJ smiles, looking at me before quickly flicking his sights onto Phil with a smile. PJ and Phil had eaten lunch together pretty much every day that I wasn't at school and from what I've gathered from Peej, they're actually pretty good friends now. I'm not jealous. Except I kind of am. It's irrational, but I know it's stupid so I can laugh at it.  
"Hey, Peej," Phil grins.

"Oh, I moved your stuff, sorry," I remember. PJ left for school early to set up some things for the dress rehearsal of the school musical and I'd needed a pair of socks because, well, I'd forgotten to wash all of mine so I decided to steal a pair from his bag since it was closer to me at the time than his sock drawer. "I'll go grab it," I say, quickly turning and walking a few paces before I round the corner. I'm about to walk up the stairs when I hear PJ's voice in the next room,  
"Can you just make sure he's alright tonight and tomorrow?" he asks Phil. What is he doing? What is he asking? He's not really asking him to make sure I'm alright, he's asking him to essentially baby-sit me and make sure that I don't die or something! Fucking hell, PJ! Now Phil's going to ask questions and/or think I'm a complete freak that can't stay home alone despite being almost seventeen fucking years old.

"What do you mean?" Phil asks, of course he would ask that though because who wouldn't?! It's exactly what someone would proceed that question with.  
"A few, well, more like five or six, months ago… something happened, and I can't really talk about it, and I know Dan won't either, but this is the first night he'll be here without me, or mum, or dad since it happened…" PJ explains briefly, and if I were standing next to him right now, I can promise that my hands would be securely around his neck.  
"Is he… is he okay?" Phil asks,  
"Ye-yes, he's fine, I think. I just… I worry about him, you know? He's my best friend and my family, and who else do I have to worry about?" he chuckles, and I can tell the mood is lightened so I quickly grab PJ's bag from the middle section of the stairs and head back down.

"If something happens, and you'll know if something happens –trust me- just… just give me a call, okay? I'll come right over and-" PJ is babbling before I round the corner. As I'm about to enter the room again to shut him up, Phil interjects and I remain hidden behind the wall,  
"I'm sure it'll be fine," I can hear his confident and strong voice, not only is he instilling confidence in PJ, probably, but even I'm suddenly finding myself feeling overwhelmingly confident that nothing bad will happen – not that I was worried about it in the first place. I take a deep breath and stroll into the room, handing PJ his bag.  
"Found it," I breathe with a forced smile, "What were you guys talking about?"  
"Oh," PJ lets out and I can practically see his mind scrambling for something, "Just school," he lies.  
"Chris is going to be waiting, is he not?" I ask, implying that I want him to leave, and he gets the message,  
"Yeah, probably," he chuckles, "I'll see you tomorrow afternoon or whatever."

Phil and I give quick good-byes and PJ's out the door. The second we see PJ walk a little way down the street through the glass living room window, Phil grabs my body and pulls me into him, kissing me quickly on the lips, then my cheek, then my jaw, then just under my eye, and finally on my lips once more. The blood rushes to my cheeks and I let out a small laugh disguised as a breath. I like when he kisses me. The butterflies in my stomach begin to stir and rustle up a little like browned autumn leaves dancing along the grass in a cool breeze. It makes me a little nervous though, I know he likes me, but he's not my boyfriend or anything. Can you have a boyfriend if you're not out? Is that a thing? I don't think that's a thing. If I were his boyfriend, would I have to tell PJ and mum? Would Jamie not let Phil stay over because we're more than friends? Oh, wait. Jamie knows. Ha, well, that's one thing down. Phil's hand trails down my arm and his hand soon finds mine, our fingers intertwining and he's smiling.

"Hey…" Phil whispers to me, brushing my fringe from my eyes with his free hand, "Are you okay? Is this alright?" he asks.  
"I'm fine, this is all good," I smile, "I'm so glad you're here and that you're kissing me and you don't hate me,"  
"I couldn't hate you," he smiles sweetly and tenderly, "You're really quite precious, and I'd be kicking myself for who-knows-how-long if I didn't at least try to capture your attention and-"  
"And?" I ask, and he shrugs.  
"I just… I like you, and I know we haven't known each other for an awfully long amount of time, but I really do like you, and I think that you feel the same way. Maybe. At least I hope you do," he laughs shortly like he's nervous, "I don't want to push anything on you though, I know that that's- it's not helpful," he almost chokes out.  
"I do like you," I smile, "And you're not pushing anything on me, I promise. I like you, and I want- I don't know what I want, but so far I've wanted everything you, or we, have done. I do like kissing you though," I wrap my arms around his waist, "This is all really new to me and a little scary, you know?" 

"I know," he rubs his hands up and down my back, "I'm very fond of you though, so don't you ever hesitate to tell me if you're uncomfortable or if something's wrong, alright?"  
"Alright," I respond, and I know he's not just talking about in regard to the two of us, but is referencing what PJ had mentioned to him earlier when I was eavesdropping as well.  
"Shall we watch movies and cuddle on the couch?" he suggests, "I kind of want a good excuse to cuddle up with you for an extended amount of time," he giggles. I tug him along by our joined hands and push him down onto the lounge before letting go of him and turning to the DVD player. He lets out a little whine as our hands disconnect, he's adorable.

"What do you want to watch?" I ask, and Phil shrugs,  
"Just whatever."  
"I don't think I've seen that one," I smirk,  
"Just put on whatever's already in there," he laughs, "I'm not that fussy."  
"Alright then, I guess we're watching… Shadow Demons," I declare,  
"I didn't take you for a fan of horror movies," he jokes, and I'm not a fan of horror. They usually freak me the fuck out and I tend to avoid them, but I guess this time I can just forget about that.  
"I think PJ left it in when he watched it with Jessica the other night," I say as I sit down next to him, and he wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me closer. I'm comfortable and I'm smiling like a complete idiot.

We're about half-way through the movie when it starts getting really fucking terrifying, and while I'm _trying_ to focus on Phil's finger drawing little circles on my now-exposed hip, or his lips that occasionally dot my skin with kisses that leave little goose-bumps, or even the feeling and warmth of him that radiates through me as I press up against him with my arms wrapped around his waist, I can't. Because if my eyes leave the screen, or if I blink, the demonic shadow-man is going to kill me. Okay, realistically, that's probably not going to happen, but that doesn't mean it's not the belief that's sitting in the forefront of my mind right now. I hold onto Phil a little tighter as the demonic shadow-man stalks and prepares to kill the panicked and distressed young woman.

"Dan," Phil interrupts my horrific thoughts, "Sweetness, are you, um- are you scared?" he asks,  
"No…"  
"You're whimpering."  
"Am I?"  
"You are."  
"Horror movies aren't exactly the least frightening of movies," I inform him, and he chuckles. He does that a lot actually. The chuckling and the laughing, I mean. It's nice.  
"You're so adorable," he squeezes me and pulls me closer and his smile makes me feel all fuzzy inside, "I think I'll keep you."  
"You'll keep me?" I giggle,  
"Yeah, if that's alright with you?"  
"What would your keeping of me require on my part?"  
"You would have to refer to me as 'Sir Philip of Charmington', bow down to me upon sight, and let me tell you, it gets worse," he says mock-seriously.

"How could it possibly get any worse than that?" I laugh,  
"…You would have to refer to me as your boyfriend," he hesitates, "Even if it's only to me."  
"Even if it's only to you?" I smile, feeling a lot more secure than I was earlier because this is Phil asking me to be his boyfriend. This is Phil asking me to be his boyfriend without pressuring me to come out. He wants to be with me even if he can't show the entire world. He isn't pressuring me to do, or be, anything at all. He's respecting me and what I do, or don't, want. And of course, he's doing it like this, no big, daunting, overly formal interaction. I think he's picked up that things like that scare me a little.

"Even if it's only between us," he reassures me, "Whatever makes you feel safe, alright?"  
Whatever makes me feel safe? Phil makes me feel safe. Just looking at him, being with him, listening to him, trusting him… it's all safe. He doesn't even know how important feeling safe is to me, but he makes sure that's how I feel. He's so wonderful.  
"I guess you can keep me, then," I struggle to hide my smile and he's grinning to himself like an idiot.  
"Can I kiss you?" he grins and I nod furiously before leaning forward to meet his lips, and they're soft. They're comforting. They're sending little exhilarating shocks through me and it I just want to be with him forever, never leaving the warmth, comfort, and safety of his embrace. For a moment I think I might cry, but I don't want to, so I don't. I won't. We stop and laugh breathy laughs between our faces as our foreheads rest against each other. I look back up at the TV and the movie is over and the demonic shadow-man is the furthest thing from my mind. Phil kisses me again.

He's not the first man to kiss me, but he's the first man that I've wanted to kiss back. That scares me sometimes. I worry that if I kiss someone, I'll see my dad. I worry that if I ever decide to engage in other sexual activities with someone that he'll… that he'll infiltrate my mind and ruin everything. I've always had that worry in the back of my mind, right from when I got my first girlfriend. Her name was Rachel and we were fourteen. She was my "first kiss", you know, like that one that wasn't your mum or… dad, or whatever. After we kissed I felt a tightness in my chest and all I could see in my mind was the first time my dad kissed me like that. It took everything in me not to cry. I can't imagine what would have happened if I cried. She probably would have told her friends and they would have told their friends, and next thing you know, I'd be trying to explain to Chris and PJ why kissing a girl made me cry. Fourteen year old boys have rough expectations thrust upon them in the sense of being tough, and strong, and manly. I'm not the kind of tough that society wants me, as a teenaged boy, to be. I like to believe I'm strong, not in the physical sense as much as the mental and emotional, and I'm not exactly the manliest of people, but I'm here.

I never thought I'd be kissing another man. Before I met Phil and I was just starting to question my sexuality, I thought that maybe he did it to me. That my dad, somehow, made me like men. I blamed him… and then I learned that that's not how those things work. Maybe if I had cried after kissing Rachel I could look back and blame it on my sexuality instead. Then I could have pretended that what my dad did to me never happened. Oh well. I guess it's too late for that now. I went through another three girlfriends at school after Rachel. Meagan, Danielle, and Sarah. God, Sarah was a bitch. She was last year, literally about nine and a half months ago was when we broke up. I didn't want to have sex with her and she took personally. I was scared, I wasn't mentally or emotionally prepared for that! Phil is different though. Perhaps it's because I'm actually sexually attracted to him, the whole thing with me not being attracted to women _might_ have something to do with the lack of success in my forced previous relationships with said women.

"You keep zoning out, is something on your mind?" Phil asks, and I nod, "Wanna talk about it?"  
"Not particularly," I tell him, "I'm pretty much just thinking about how perfect I think you are for me."  
"I think you're perfect," he whispers in my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "In every sense of the word."  
"You're my boyfriend," I suddenly let slip from my thoughts, and he laughs,  
"That's right," he strokes my cheek with his thumb, "Congratulations," he smirks, licking my cheek.  
"Philip!" I almost shriek, hitting him with the nearest throw pillow before pouncing onto him and wrapping my arms around his torso, "Let's eat dinner and then we can spend the rest of the night with video games," I laugh, and he agrees.

"What time is it?" Phil asks, wrapping his arms tightly around my pillow as he wiggles around to get temporarily comfortable. We'd spend the entire night mucking around downstairs until mum stopped in as promised and left again, happy to meet my "new friend". Now it's probably about three in the morning, but I can't be sure, so we we're getting ready for bed, stripping down to his tight underwear and my boxers. Nothing's going to happen, I know that much, but it's a little bit exciting and a little bit… nerve-wracking.  
"Um…" I fumble for my phone to check the time,  
"Why don't you have a clock or something in here?" he laughs as he makes a large gesture around my room, "How will you know what the time is?"  
"I know what time it is," I huff, "It's late O'clock."  
"Yes, of course it is," Phil laughs. "Are you going to come to bed, love?" he winks, playing as if we are a married, domestic couple. His bright, cheerful eyes look up at me from my bed, his black hair splayed messily across the pillow case. He smiles. He smiles and it's like pure bliss. I crawl across the bed and plop myself down next to him, forcing him to roll over with a groan.

"Will you cuddle me?" I pout and he tugs me slightly so that I'm down on his level, laughing as his arms wrap around me instead of the pillow. I pull away from him slightly to turn off the bedside lamp, and within seconds Phil's lips are on my collar bone, then my neck. I let out a quiet moan and he giggles into the crevice of my neck,  
"Is this okay?" his low voice asks,  
"This is very okay," I purr and snuggle into him, kissing his chest lightly several times. I relax into his embrace and feel his lips against my now-flushed cheeks, they're soft and it's a sweet, tender kiss, and- oh. Oh. Phil's hand is sliding its way down the back of my underwear and… I like it. It's not scary. I trust him. I know he's not going to go further than that. At least that's what I'm hoping.

"How about this?" he asks, and this time I just nod, one hand fisting in the sheets comfortably and the other pressed up against his chest, feeling the beating of his heart as it slowly speeds up. "Are you sure?" he asks, retreating his hand slightly, he's clearly noticed that this time I wasn't as enthusiastic.  
"Yeah," I breathe, but there's a slight hitch in my breath as he begins to play with the waist band, "But… just…"  
"No further?" he smiles, and I nod again, "Sounds good to me," he whispers and he strokes the exposed skin of my lower back tenderly with his thumb under the covers.  
"Thanks," I whisper,  
"Can I ask you something?"  
"Mmm?" I hum, and he pecks me on the cheek and then the ear,  
"How are you so gorgeous?" he mumbles. I just grin and shake my head,  
"Your contacts aren't in," I giggle, pressing myself closer to him and closing my eyes as he plays with my hair. I wiggle around to get comfortable, our legs intertwining and my eyes closing, with his lips gently pressing against my forehead at sporadic intervals, lulling me comfortably to sleep. 

The morning light seeps into the room, illuminating Phil's pale, white skin and blinding me slightly as I make my third attempt to open my eyes properly. The house is still, the birds are chirping outside and it's a little bit cold, so I snuggle in closer to Phil's warm body. His arms are slowly snaking around me and he whispers a quiet good morning, or something along those lines – his voice is a little muffled – and now he's holding me closely and it's perfect. We both close our eyes once more and allow ourselves some time to just lay in the presence of each other, cuddling and resting. I sort of wish I could stay like this with him forever. It's not often that I feel this good…

"Dan?" a small, very awake, voice addresses me and I can barely hear it, I must've fallen back to sleep like Phil had. "Oh my god…" the voice continues. I open eyes and I'm facing Phil, still wrapped up in his arms and looking up slightly to his still-sleeping face, and that means… that means the voice wasn't his. I quickly crane my neck and look at the bedroom door, which is open, but no body's there. I gently detangle myself from Phil and he lets a little noise, an adorable little noise that I need to ignore. The second I'm out of bed, I'm power-walking through the upper level of the house.

I quickly check in PJ's room and it's empty. Mum and Jamie's bedroom door is still closed, and therefore locked, so I continue down the stairs… and there's PJ. There's PJ, standing in the kitchen, head in his hands.  
"Peej?" I ask, and he turns to face me, dropping his hands.  
"What's going on?" he asks, and he doesn't look mad, or disappointed, or disgusted, just confused and a little concerned. His wobbles a little as he speaks and it's clear to me now that he's still trying piece together a sentence that could maybe explain whatever's going through his head.  
"What, uh- what do you mean?" Jesus, that sounded stupid, it's really fucking obvious that he means what's going on with me and Phil being all cuddled up and almost entirely naked together in my bed. That's what he means.

"Dan…" He looks at me seriously, "I really think you're leading him on, and that's not fair on him, or on you either, if things start to happen and you're not into it."  
Oh my god. He's really not getting it. He's REALLY not getting it. Unless… he's in denial. Like, what if he doesn't want me to be gay so much that he's just refusing to have it anywhere in his mind?!  
"PJ, I'm not leading him on…" I tell him, repeating exactly what I'd told him a few days ago,  
"Dan! You're wearing," he pauses and looks down at my lack of clothes with wide eyes, "That!" He points out, "And you were cuddled up in bed with him, with your hands in his hair and- and- and oh my god…"  
Okay. Yep. He's catching on. He's lost for words, standing there with his mouth open, trying to find the words he needs.

"PJ, I'm not leading him on. I like him. A lot…" I say quietly, and I seriously hope that I'm not making this worse.  
"That's not something that most friends do, Dan…" Peej is clearly struggling now,  
"No, it's not," I confirm.  
"Then why are you..?"  
"Because we're more than friends, Peej."  
"But…" he swallows the saliva that's built up in his mouth and now he's looking at me, shaking his head slightly,  
"PJ, I'm gay…" I whisper, and fucking hell, now I'm crying. Why am I crying? PJ looks up at me and suddenly he's coming toward me and wrapping me in a tight hug. He's hugging me, he's okay, and he doesn't hate me!  
"I just- I thought- I didn't- Oh my god, Dan. I should've known! You were in bed with him and my first thought was literally that you were leading him on, and there was that text, and when dad- wait. Does dad know? Did you tell my dad before me?! Is that what the same-sex-sex-talk was about?!" He rambles, and I can't help but laugh.

"Yeah… I didn't tell him," I laugh, "He figured it out himself,"  
"How long have you known?"  
"I don't know. I've been a bit unsure for a while and recently… I don't know, I just kind of figured it out a little better recently with Phil around. He's really great, Peej, and he makes me happy… I have an actual boyfriend!" I grin, and PJ smiles back at me.  
"I'm happy for you," he assures me before his tone turns serious, "Just… be safe, okay? And if he hurts you, I'm going to kill him."  
"I'm pretty sure I could take care of him a little better than you could in regards to killing him, but if you say so," I laugh,  
"You're my best friend and my little brother-" he begins before I cut him off,  
"You're only older than me by a few months or something!"  
"It doesn't matter," he continues with a laugh, "I've just always wanted to say that and didn't think I'd ever have the opportunity."

"You weren't gonna threaten to kill the girls that would be mean to me?" I pout,  
"I always assumed that you'd be the one to fuck something up," he shrugs with a smirk, and I punch him playfully on the shoulder,  
"I'm going back upstairs, just try not to make things weird, okay?" I say, entirely seriously but with an entertained tone.  
"Do you have condoms?" he asks as I'm walking back out of the kitchen,  
"No, I do not," I breathe and give him a look that says to drop it before I hit him,  
"Wait, so you're not being safe? That's a bit irresponsible, don't you think?"  
"I'm not being safe because I don't have to be. We're not having sex," I say quietly, just in case Phil can hear from upstairs,  
"Oh."  
"Like I said, just don't make things weird," I laugh, "We can talk later when it's a little more convenient."

"Sorry," I say as I enter my bedroom to find Phil sitting up and fixing his hair, "PJ came home and saw us and I had to explain some things…"  
"What did you tell him?" he asks, and I make my way into his arms again,  
"The truth,"  
"Aw, Dan," he squeezes me tightly, "I'm so proud of you!"  
"Now I just have to tell my mum at some point and I'm all good, right?" I joke,  
"Yep," Phil kisses my temple, "No problems with PJ, then?"  
"None at all," I answer him, "But he says that if you hurt me he'll kill you," I laugh, "So watch it, buddy."  
"Don't worry Danny, I don't want to hurt you anyway," he giggles,  
"Please don't call me Danny…"  
"Alright, sorry," he apologises, squeezing my shoulder.  
"If you do it again, I'll tell PJ," I whine like a little kid threatening another with telling their mother, "And he'll… art you to death."  
"Shut up, Daniel," he laughs before kissing me on the mouth so that I can't respond, taking my lips in his own and the second I grant his tongue access to the inside of my mouth, I feel the deepest urge to submit to him fully. But I don't, because I can't. I can't take this too far because then I won't be in control anymore, and the second Phil knows about what happened with my dad, he'll think I'm disgusting and will probably never talk to me again.


	7. Chapter 7

"So Daniel, why've you decided to come see me today?" the therapist asks after going through all the details of confidentiality, what the service is, who he is, and of course his floundered attempts at making me comfortable. I'm not going to be comfortable here. On Sunday night I decided that I can't tell Jamie the details of what happened with my dad. I trust him, that's not the issue, the issue that I have is that if I tell Jamie… he would have to live with that knowledge. It would be there in his brain. All of it. He would know things about my dad, and me, and everything that went on behind my locked bedroom door. He wouldn't treat me the same. So now I'm seated in another locked room with none other than my new therapist, "Call me Jerry!" he'd told me when I walked in. Jerry is a somewhat stout man with a short-ish build and awkwardly broad shoulders that look like they've been mismatched with his petite waist. His hair is a dull salt-and-pepper with completely black tips where it's previously been dyed but he hasn't bothered to maintain, on top of that, it's also spiked up and he looks like he's trying too hard to be "hip" or cool. He has a single gold loop earring in his left ear and a deep set of crow's feet by his dull grey-blue eyes. His personality says enthusiastic, but his look says tired and probably in need of a career change. 

"It's Dan," I correct him,  
"No sweat, Dan it is, then!" he laughs, "What's brought you here today?"  
"My step-dad," I say.  
"And is there a reason your step-dad has made an appointment and brought you in today?" he asks,  
"Yeah," I respond, but just barely.  
"And what's that?"  
"I've just had some trouble with some stuff and then some things happened and now here we are," I answer him. I know it's vague and unhelpful, but who the fuck would dive straight into the hard stuff here? No one, that's who.  
"So what's been going on?"  
"I've been a bit depressed again lately and went back on my medication, and yeah…" I tell him, but stop before I reveal anything too personal. He looks at me for a moment before writing something down, and that's essentially how our entire session proceeds. Him asking me questions and me giving him vague answers.

"How'd you go kiddo?" Jamie asks as I seat myself in the front seat of his car and put my seatbelt on,  
"It was better than the place I went to last year," There's no point in being negative about the whole thing when all he's trying to do is help, so I may as well point out the positive aspects of it and at least give him some indication that I'm trying.  
"Is it? That's really great," he smiles, "Same time next week?" he asks,  
"Yep, appointment is for four O'clock next Tuesday," I remind him, but he knows. He made the appointments for me around both of our schedules. Maybe Jerry and I will get a little further next week.  
"I'm very proud of you," he says, looking at me fondly for a moment before averting his eyes back to the road, "I'm so proud of you for accepting help and doing this, and for everything else you've overcome and accomplished,"  
"Thanks," I murmur, because if I'm honest, I don't think it's a huge accomplishment. It's just life, isn't it?  
"And just because you're seeing a therapist doesn't mean that you can't talk to me if and when you need to, alright? You know I love you and that you are a top priority, right?"

"Yeah, I know. Thank you…" We're turning into our street now and Jamie suddenly looks a little worried,  
"I have a feeling I'm gonna be booking an appointment for PJ this week too," he says with a bit of a laugh,  
"How come?"  
"You know that cat that he's always feeding and trying to convince us to adopt even though it has an owner?" says Jamie, and I nod, "Yeah, well… he died today. Mrs Stone came over to let us know that she found him in her front yard before work, we went over to Mrs Wood's place to tell her that her beloved pet had passed… and she cried."  
"As expected," I chime in.  
"And now I have to break the news to the poor boy that loved that cat more than his owner did,"  
"He's going to cry."  
"He's gonna cry," Jamie repeats, pulling into the driveway before the two of us head into the house.

Oscar was a ginger cat, he had short fur, four legs and a tail, just like most cats. He had big, wide, hazel-green eyes and pension for cans of tuna. When we first moved here, he was an adolescent kitty, you know, going through phases of rebelling against his parents and not doing his homework. I assume it's quite a similar process for cats as it is for humans. Or maybe not. Anyway, PJ and I were about twelve and our new family had pretty much just come together to live with each other for the first time, and it was scary, yet exciting. Mum and I's previous house was far too small, after dad left we had to move there because we only living off of one income, and Jamie and PJ's house wasn't small, but it only had two bedrooms and a small study. Jamie said it wouldn't be fair for me to have to live in the smallest room in the house, so he and mum decided that moving somewhere else entirely was the best option and that it would be a great start for our new family. They were right.

When we first moved in, five and a half year ago, PJ discovered Oscar. He was sitting on the grass in our new front yard, sketching the big tree across the road, when he was joined by an orange-blond, four legged, friendly cat. PJ started feeding him, petting him, doting over him, and soon Oscar was a regular visitor. I was a bit jealous of their relationship at times. It's a weird thought, my position of best friend being made redundant because I'd essentially been replaced with a cat, it's a little funny. I guess Oscar was a good listener though, and there are some things that you just can't tell other people because they'd judge you or tell their friends, or make you feel stupid for thinking or feeling the things that you do. I can understand how Oscar helped PJ, I'd be lying if I said that I hadn't sat down to have a chat with Oscar in the past, but that's something that I'd never say out loud.

Despite everything, now Oscar is gone and PJ is wrapped up in a blanket on his bed in tears. That cat really meant a lot to him. It's not like he's just lost some cat, or some pet, he's lost a very close friend that he loved wholeheartedly. It breaks my heart to see him like this.  
"There isn't even going to be a funeral!" PJ heaves, "Why doesn't she want to give him a funeral?!"  
"I don't know, Peej," I say, rubbing his back, "But it'll be okay… Oscar got you to the point where you could cope with things without him all the time, remember? He taught you how to get through things, and maybe that's what he was here for, yeah?"  
"Like he was here to help me and now he's done?" He sobs, holding the blanket tight in his fist for comfort.

"Yeah, because maybe he knows that you're strong enough now to get through this and everything else, and maybe this is his way of telling you that? Maybe it was time for him to move on and help someone somewhere else because you're almost an adult now and don't need him the way someone else might?" I suggest. I really hope that this helps, if it doesn't he'll probably just think I'm stupid and feel worse.  
"Yeah…" he cries and wipes his wet cheeks with his sleeve, "He was a really good soul, Dan…"  
"I know," I tell him, "He was a really special cat,"  
"I want him to come back…" he breathes, and the tears start again. This time I don't say anything, he just needs to cry.

"How's Peej doing?" mum asks as I walk into the kitchen where she's sitting and writing a list of something while Jamie cooks dinner,  
"He'll be okay," I assure them, "He's just really upset, but he'll get through it."  
"Does this mean we need to buy him a new cat?" mum asks,  
"I don't think that would be much help, you can't replace Oscar,"  
"Yeah, you're right. Do you think he'll feel better by Friday?" mum asks, and Jamie turns around and looks at her for a moment, because this seems like the beginning of one of her strange series' of questions, or comments that she's been delivering lately.

"Why?" I ask, exchanging a glance with Jamie before turning back to her,  
"I want us all to sit and talk on Friday after school and work and everything," she replies, and it doesn't sound too strange. I guess that's a normal mum thing to want, right?  
"Yeah, okay. We'll all sit and talk at dinner on Friday, I'll cook something that will force us all to stay at the table a little longer than normal," Jamie says with a slight chuckle, and mum looks up and him fondly before thanking him.  
"I'll go let PJ know then," I interrupt before removing myself from the kitchen.

Phil and I are sitting at my regular lunch table and it's nice. It's peaceful. A simple, yet highly coveted feeling. Chris and PJ haven't come from class yet, I think they had French or something, lord knows why they take it, neither of them cam speak it and they're both failing since they can't be bothered studying for it anyway. I think they took it because they didn't want calculus, but I don't know. Phil's hand suddenly finds my own and he's looking at me with his sweet, loving eyes, he gives my hand a squeeze and I shuffle over toward him a little more, looking around before quickly kissing him on the cheek. Other than PJ, Jamie and obviously myself and Phil, no one knows about us. There's a loud vibration on the table and Phil and I both jump, laughing a little at our reactions as I pick up my phone and read the incoming text from PJ,  
" _Chris and I are around the corner, don't be making out when we get there, I THINK that might give you away."  
_ I laugh and show Phil, whom also laughs and reluctantly drops hand, but I don't slide away from him, I still want to be close to him.

"I hate Fridays," Chris declares, dropping his folder onto the picnic table and sitting down across from Phil.  
"Yeah, Fridays are so difficult, you know, with the promise of the weekend an all, they're just horrific!" I reply, and PJ seats himself across from me, next to Chris, and joins the conversation,  
"I'm a little worried about dinner tonight," Peej tells me, "Like, your mum's been acting really weird and I think something might be wrong…"  
"How has she been acting weird?" Phil asks us both,  
"Asking strange questions or saying weird things at indiscriminate times about random things," I tell the table,  
"And she's been acting weird too, I can't describe it, but it's weird," PJ expands on what I'd already said, "Dad has no idea what's up with her either, so I don't know…"  
"I hope she's alright…" Chris says, and he sounds really genuine. Honestly, I've been worried about mum over the past few weeks as well, I don't know what it is, but there's just something different with her.

"New topic!" PJ shouts out, and we laugh a little,  
"Uh…" Chris struggles aloud, searching for a new topic, "I have no clue,"  
"I think Dan had something that he wanted to talk about, right Dan?" PJ looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to say something. PJ and I discussed this last night, and by 'this' I mean telling Chris about Phil and I. Phil had also encouraged me, but reinforced the idea that I didn't have to if I didn't want to. The thing is, I didn't want to tell that that I think Chris is a homophobe. What if he's not and I interpreted it wrong? What if I'm completely wrong and I'm essentially committing defamation against him to his friends? I'm legitimately scared. I am legitimately scared that he will hate me, target me… hurt me.

"Yeah?" Chris asks, joining the others in looking at me,  
"Um, yes. I needed to tell you something," I say, directing the majority of my attention to Chris, "I'm dating someone."  
"Seriously?!" He asks, clearly happy for me, "Who is it?"  
"It's… It's Phil. He's my- my boyfriend…" I say, scooting even closer to Phil and leaning into his open form slightly.  
Chris has just stopped. I think he's processing what I've just told him, but I can't be sure. Maybe I shouldn't have told him. Maybe this was a bad idea. What if he hates me?  
"I didn't even know that you were gay," he says.  
"Neither did he," Phil laughs, attempting, and failing, to lighten the mood, "Well, sort of."  
"How long have you known?" Chris turns to PJ now, he doesn't look happy,  
"Since Saturday. I came home from your place and when I opened Dan's bedroom door, they were all tangled up in bed together," he raises his eyebrow with a laugh and Chris just stares at Phil and I with wide eyes before standing up,  
"You're disgusting. Both of you. I tried to give you a chance, Lester, but now you're… I don't even want to think about what you're doing with my friends – it's sick. You're sick," he spits and takes off from the picnic table angrily.

I wish I wasn't, but I am. I'm crying. PJ leans forward across the table and touches my hand lightly for support. Phil doesn't look as crushed. He's used to it, he told me so, and he wasn't friends with Chris like I was. He tried, sure, but really, it wasn't a friendship, more of an acquaintanceship. Phil places his arm around my shoulders and sighs,  
"I'm sorry, jellybean," he says, and I nuzzle into his chest a little as he brings his other arm around to hug me,  
"I knew this would happen…" I breathe, and I feel him shake his head,  
"It's just something that happens sometimes, and it's not your fault. Some people just don't get it, they don't like what they don't understand, and that's their loss, alright? They're missing out on all the great people that they could be friends with, or have a family connection with, and they're the ones cutting the ties. Everyone's entitled to their thoughts and opinions," Phil says, "All we can do is remember that it's not us that they have a problem with, and that it's not up to us to try and change their minds. We just keep living and respect them and their choices, preparing ourselves and deciding what route to take if they realise who and what they're losing because of their judgements and hurtful attitudes toward who we are."

I think that Phil is right, he's always right about these kinds of things. I guess this also means that Chris and I aren't friends anymore, the fact that I'm in a relationship with another guy is enough to put five years of friendship to waste. I don't get it! How the fuck does it even affect him? It's just so fucking stupid, and- you know, forget it. It doesn't matter. I don't need him… I have PJ, and PJ is supportive of me. Jamie is supportive, and I'm sure mum will be too, and when PJ and I mentioned my relationship with Phil to our other friend, Jessica, she was all excited and swore that she wouldn't have seen it coming in a million years. I don't need Chris. I have Phil, my friends, and my family. I just have to wait and see if Chris changes his mind and be ready to accept an apology if one comes my way…

The classroom clock strikes the end of the school day, the bell ringing approximately twenty seconds later, and the class shuffles out excitedly, each pupil ready to start the weekend and forget about the tortures of classes for a couple of short days. Phil walks me out the door, through the school and down the block, away from everyone else.  
"Aw, babe," Phil coos, "You're just so pretty, how do you expect me to let you leave?"  
"Oh my god, Phil," I laugh and he tugs on my hand again to show me how much he wants me to stay, "I need to go home at some point,"  
"Come home with me, then? I'll make sure you're home by dinner," he pleads, "Please?"  
"Hmm… I _guess_ I could come over and let you tell me how handsome I am…" I giggle.

"You are very handsome," he comments, "You're an exceptionally pretty young man,"  
"Why do you keep calling me pretty? I feel like you're going to put me in some red lipstick and blue eyeshadow or something," I laugh.  
"I'm calling you pretty because you're very attractive, and the way your eyelashes sit on the top of your cheeks when you close your eyes is very, very pretty," he declares a-matter-of-factly. I shake my head and he walks me back to his house, the second we walk through the front door he kisses me on the cheek and apologises for the mess, not that I was expecting it to be tidy anyway. After lots of kissing and lots of playful conversation, he walks me home and just as I'm about to part ways with him and go inside, he pulls me close and kisses my cheek before hoarsely whispering in my ear and trailing his hand down my back to my bum, squeezing it gently,  
" _You do something to me, Daniel."_ There are goose-bumps all over my body.

The house is warm and well-lit, I can hear PJ and mum in the dining room, probably setting the table, and the unmistakable smell of roast beef and vegetables coming from the kitchen. I follow the light chatter and scent of the food and I'm greeted with a smile from mum and a "How're going, mate?" from Jamie.  
"I'm alright," I smile,  
"Ready for dinner, love?" mum asks, setting the tray of veggies on the table beside the meat. I nod and take a seat, joining her and PJ at the dining table before Jamie comes and sits with us, chatting absentmindedly about the food. We're about fifteen minutes into dinner when Jamie speaks up,  
"Honey, what was it that you wanted us to talk about?" he asks mum, and she smiles,  
"Oh, right! I almost forgot," she laughs, "I think we all need to play a fun family game! We all go around the table and tell everyone something important that the rest of the family might not necessarily know!"

Alright, this is weird. Either she knows that I'm hiding my sexuality and/or relationship with Phil from her, or this is just another example of her recently strange behaviours. PJ and Jamie are just as confused as I am, both sharing the same look as what I'm probably showing, but Jamie, always the supporting husband, contorts his face into a smile and says, "Alright! I'll go first then. Last week I found out that I'm in line for a promotion at work!" he says, and mum begins gushing over the news before setting her sights on PJ and I, and we just sort of look at each other for a moment. Still just looking at each other. And then PJ speaks up.  
"I went to Mrs Wood's house on Wednesday to ask for photos of Oscar. I put them up between the family photos on the mantle in the living room…" he confesses, looking sad and guilty, but then laughing with a bit of a smile.  
"Aw, sweetie…" mum says, "That's okay, we can keep him up there. You're turn, Daniel!"

My turn. Alright. Here I go. I can do this.  
"I…" my eyes dart around the room as I pause my attempt to start my sentence. PJ nods encouragingly, Jamie smiles, and mum looks on, waiting for me to speak. "I, um… I- I have a boyfriend?" I tell them, but it sounds more like a question than anything.  
"You… what?" mum asks, staring at me with wide eyes, "A boyfriend? Honey, are you..?"  
"I'm gay…" I say, quickly swallowing some water from the glass in front of me.  
"And you have a boyfriend?" she asks,  
"And I have a boyfriend," I confirm.  
"What's his name, sweetheart?" she asks, sounding loving and caring like normal, as if the initial shock of it has worn off,  
"His name's Phil!" PJ chimes in with a grin, and Jamie shoots him a look to tell him to shut up.  
"Phil?" she turns to me, "The nice boy I met last week?"  
"Yeah…" I breathe, "Him."

"Jamie, why aren't you saying anything?" she asks, turning to her husband,  
"I've already spoken to Dan about it," Jamie tells her, "And I'm really proud of him for coming out to all of us," he smiles. Mum turns back to me and smiles as well,  
"Are you happy? Is he good to you? Does he respect you properly? He's not pressuring you or anything, is he?!" she asks quickly, eyes darting around my face.  
"No, mum," I laugh, "Everything is all good. I'm happy and he's nice, can we move on, please?"  
"Okay, okay. My turn then, isn't it?" she beams, and we all nod, still skeptic about this 'game'.  
"What is it, love?" Jamie asks her and she takes a deep breath, pausing for effect.  
"I'm pregnant!" she exclaims with a huge grin on her face. She's pregnant! That means there's going to be a baby. A baby!

Jamie's immediately up and by her side, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her cheek over and over. They look so happy and excited, and don't get me wrong, I'm happy too, and this explains so much of mum's weird behaviour, I'm just shocked. PJ's laughing a bit, he predicted this and he's not afraid to say he told us so. The second Jamie moves away to clear the table, I stand up and hug mum as tight as I can and she hugs back even tighter,  
"I'm so happy for you, sweetie," she tell me,  
"I'm happy for you too," I laugh, and she shakes her head,  
"This isn't just about me, it's about all of us," she smiles,  
"I'm not gonna be the baby anymore," I remind her, and she gasps.  
"You're always going to be my baby!" she exclaims, "Always, always, and always!"


	8. Chapter 8

"Wait, so your mum's having a baby?" Jessica asks about five seconds of silence after PJ had told her the news. Jessica is joining us for lunch today, she used to almost every day but since getting one of the lead roles in the musical PJ's helping out with she's spent most of her lunchtimes in the school hall, rehearsing.  
"That's usually what being pregnant means, yes," he replies sarcastically, earning a laugh from me, "What are you laughing at?" he jokes at me.  
"Nothing," I laugh again,  
"You're not going to be the baby anymore," he teases me, "You're technically going to be a middle child!"  
"Ouch," Jessica joins, "Everyone knows that the middle child is the most forgotten," she chuckles.

"Oh no," I reply apathetically, "I'll be able to get away with whatever I want to, what a horrible existence."  
"Shut up," PJ laughs,  
"I'm kidding," Jessica says, elbowing PJ, "I'm a middle child, and I'm fine. Except Mia and I are twins, but she's always bragging about how she's three minutes older," she laughs.  
"Nothing's going to change except the furniture in the study," I tell them, "And the fact that PJ will be spending time babysitting,"  
"Why won't you be babysitting? Why is it just me?" he pouts,  
"Because when you see babies you become super-mum," I joke, "Except a teenaged boy."

"The idea of you two around a baby is a little frightening," Jessica says, "PJ will paint it and Dan will… I dunno, accidentally lock himself outside while the baby's inside."  
"I think one of those things is a little more serious than the other," PJ laughs, "And Dan, I'm almost fairly certain that you won't lock yourself outside away from the baby,"  
"Almost fairly certain? What are you two even talking about? I'm great with babies!" I retort, and the two of them start laughing as Phil sits down to join us for lunch,  
"What's so funny?" He asks, quickly squeezing my thigh,  
"The idea of PJ, and specifically, Dan looking after a baby," Jessica giggles and Phil just kind of looks at the three of us for a moment.

"Who would put you in charge of an infant?" he asks me sceptically,  
"Does literally everyone think I'm incapable of looking after a baby?" I ask, and they all nod. It's settled, I'm going to kill this child. I'm going to be responsible for the death of this infant. Great.  
"Oh… Come on, sweet, we're just mucking around," Phil smiles kindly at me, "Why are we talking about babies though?"  
"Dan's mum is having a baby with PJ's dad," Jessica fills him in, "Maybe you could share a colouring book with it," she laughs.  
"Speaking of colouring books," Phil shoots Jessica an amused look, "I finished mine. Look, it's all coloured," he says, quickly pulling it out and flicking across the pages. "I don't even know what to do with my life now."  
"I have some ideas…" I mumble with a mischievous smile,  
"Daniel!" PJ shouts at me in shock, "What in the- What the hell are you- Don't do that!"

Phil and I laugh at PJ's attempt at reprimanding me and I start flicking through Phil's colouring book properly. There are so many bright colours! Phil loves bright colours and I'm glad that he does because when I think of Phil, I think of bright blues and greens.  
"The pages are perforated," Phil says, "You can tear out any that you like," he tells me, tucking a stray bit of my hair behind my ear. God, he makes me smile. I feel so stupid, sitting at this table with all my friends and smiling like a complete goofy idiot at a colouring book and the idea that I could stick some of the pages to my bedroom wall.  
"How come you were colouring all the time, anyway?" Jessica asks, and I wait for Phil's answer about mindfulness and how it's therapeutic, but it doesn't come.  
"Because I can't draw," he jokes instead, "Just ask Peej. I'm quite possibly the worst in our visual arts class." PJ confirms it with a laugh and the conversation moves on. I guess the truth was something that he trusts me with and that it's a little bit special that he's told me.

"Are you sure you can't come over?" Phil asks on our walk home from school, "Even for a little while?"  
"I can't on Tuesdays," I tell him, "Sorry…"  
"It's okay, I've had almost all day to bask in your gorgeousness," he laughs, "What do you do on Tuesdays anyway?"  
"Oh," I say, looking down and chewing my lip a little, "I uh- I have appointments on Tuesdays…"  
"Alright," he smiles at me and takes my hand,  
"I see a psychologist at four," I continue.  
"Are you okay?" he asks, pausing our journey,  
"Yeah, I am," I nod, "Just sorting some things out, you know?"  
"As long as you're alright, pumpkin," he smiles, kissing the dimple that appears on my face as I smile at his latest pet name for me. He always manages to find a new one, and I adore it.

He drops me at my front door, kissing me as my hand finds his hip and pulls him a little closer to my body,  
"Careful, lamb, you're gonna start something that you can't finish," he teases as he pulls away slowly and pokes his tongue out at me.  
"Sorry," I giggle, "I'll see you tomorrow?"  
"You'll see me tomorrow," he strokes my cheek with his hand and I lean into his touch, "You're so adorable," he whispers, kissing my cheek and departing. I step into the house and force my shoes off my feet without untying them, almost tripping over in the process before standing up and catching PJ closing the blinds to the front of the house.

"Were you watching us?" I ask in disbelief, "PJ!"  
"You kissed him!" he squeals, "You kissed him and he kissed you, and you did the thing, and his hands were in your hair!"  
"Thanks for letting me know, it's not like I was there," I laugh, "Calm down, it's not like we never kiss or anything,"  
"I've never seen you guys kiss before," he says, "Can I ask you something?"  
"What?"  
"When you're completely alone with him, like, when you go to his place, is he… I mean… he's not trying to pressure you into anything, right?"  
"What? No. No, he's never pressured me into anything, why?" I ask,  
"He's a little bit older, and more experienced, and you're a little vulnerable at the moment," he tells me.

"I'm not vulnerable, what are you talking about?" I almost shout for clarification,  
"Dan, in about ten minutes you're going to leave to see your therapist," he retorts, his voice low. He's right. I suck in a deep breath and shake my head, leaving him in the entrance hall and trudging up the stairs because while he might be right, it still hurts. All he's done is remind me that there's something wrong with me, that I 'need help', and it fucking feels like shit. It hurts. It's not my fault… I didn't ask for this, I didn't do anything to make me like this, and I don't need to be reminded of how I'm different or vulnerable or whatever the hell else is wrong with me. I quickly get changed and walk straight back down the stairs and past PJ, ignoring his awkward body language and attempts at voicing an apology, and into the car where Jamie is waiting for me.

"So how are we this week?" Jerry, the extremely lame psychologist, asks me as he closes the door to his office.  
"Just great," I answer monotonously,  
"Wanna tell me a little about your day, then?" he asks, and I take in a deep breath.  
"I went to school," I start, this is stupid, "So I saw my friends, and my not-friends, and my boyfriend,"  
"Oh, you have a boyfriend?" he smiles, "Tell me a little more about that?"  
"We've been together for about eight weeks or something, but we were sort of a little bit more than friends for a few weeks before that," I tell him, "His name's Phil."  
"And how old is Phil?" he asks now. He just keeps coming up with more questions, doesn't he?

"He's a little bit older, like, a year and a bit older, but we're in the same year at school," I explain,  
"How's that work?" he asks with his uncomfortable, 'professional' smile,  
"I'm a bit younger than most of the people in my year group," I shrug, "Mum started me early."  
"I see," he chimes, "So what else happened today? Anything at school?" he asks, he's clearly still trying to make me feel comfortable while still extracting some basic information from me.  
"I went home, then I came here,"  
"Did something happen to make you feel a little upset?" he enquires, "You seem a little upset this week,"  
"No, just something the PJ said," I say,  
"PJ… He's your best friend and step-brother, yes?" he asks, and I nod.

"Yeah, he was asking about Phil, and that's fine because I've just gotten used to people asking, but today he made a comment about how I'm vulnerable at the moment and then tied it in with me having to come here, and you know what? It's not my fault that I have to be here in this stupid little office!" Suddenly I'm spilling everything and I can't stop myself, "This isn't self-inflicted! I didn't sit down one day and decide that mental illness sounded like fun and that I'd just give it a go! You've read the notes from when I was hospitalised last year when I tried to kill myself, does depression and whatever else is wrong with me sound like fun?! It's not my fault!"  
"It sounds like you're a little distressed about feeling different and having to struggle with these things, and maybe a little resentful of other people that might not really understand," he says, and I scoff.  
"That's the understatement of the fucking year," I hiss.

"You seem to have this ideology about being different and it not being your fault, which is true, it's not your fault," he says, "But what I want to know is where you're placing this blame?"  
"I don't know!" I cry, but it's rather sarcastic, "Maybe I'm in denial, and it really is my fault for making him hate me enough to leave! Maybe it's my dad's fault for leaving me! And you know what?! Maybe it's his fault for hurting me, for doing disgusting things to me, touching me… and then just leaving like it was all for nothing!" And now I'm really crying, real tears, and Jerry, fucking Jerry, just nods like I haven't just spilled the beans on why Jamie's dragged me here. It's been four fucking sessions where I haven't said a single thing, Jerry! Now I've just told you something that I've spoken about a total of ONCE in my life, albeit in anger and it just slipped out, but even still!

"I understand," he says.  
"You understand?! That's great!" I exclaim, sarcasm dripping from my voice as I continue to fake excitement, "We can really talk about this then, can't we?!"  
"Yes, I-" he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off and continue in my sarcastically excited tone,  
"Let's get started then!" I shoot him a smart-assed grin, "How old were you when your dad started touching you at night?" I ask, leaning over to pretend I'm ready to listen intently to his answer, not that I give him a chance to respond, "And how old were you when you lost your virginity?" I ask, throwing my hands up wildly, "Because I wasn't even six yet. Do you have memories of your dad doing those sickening things to you living inside your head? Do you ever close your eyes and see him masturbating, or dream about him forcing his dick into your mouth?! How about other places!? What about that?! How about being forced to shower while he watched afterwards!?"

The tears haven't stopped, and the words keep coming, I'm surprised at my lack of choking and the way I'm able to hold myself up, but I feel sick. Jerry swallows and looks at me wide-eyed. Oh god. He thinks I'm crazy. No. Oh no. This was a mistake. I feel so sick. Jerry remains silent.  
"I'm sorry," I whisper, standing up, but I'm dizzy, and I'm shaking. How hadn't I noticed either of those things? I stabilise myself on the arm of the chair and I think I'm going to be sick. Yes. Yep, I'm gonna throw up. I take in a deep breath and open the door to the room, running past reception and Jamie and into the bathrooms, falling to my knees on the floor in front of one of the toilet bowls and throwing up literally everything I ate today. Less than two minutes later, Jamie's behind me, rubbing my back and asking if I'm okay. My answer is no.

When we get home, it's still very obvious that I've been crying and when mum gets up to greet us Jamie just shakes his head and escorts me upstairs to my room and seats me on the edge of the bed.  
"Do you want to tell me what happened?" he asks, "Are you feeling okay?"  
"I um… I- I don't really know," I say quietly, "I started talking and then I took complete control of the situation, but I wasn't really in control of myself and what I was saying… He said he understood, Jamie… He doesn't understand, he could never understand, I just- I lost it."  
"That's okay," he tells me, "It happens sometimes, especially in environments like that,"  
"I told him so much… but I was practically screaming at him," I tremble, "I apologised."

"It's alright," his calming voice says,  
"Just thinking about all of it made me feel so sick…"  
"So I saw," he says, "Do you still feel sick?"  
"Just anxious," I say, moving closer to him and hugging him tightly as if he's the only thing holding me to the earth, "I'm sorry…"  
"Don't be sorry, it's not your fault," he whispers, wrapping his arms around me and rubbing my back, "I'm always here for you, I love you, okay?"  
"I love you too," I murmur into his shoulder, "I don't feel like dinner tonight…"  
"That's alright," he says, standing up, "If you need anything, I want you to let me know, okay?" I nod and he's out the door with a sympathetic smile.

I hadn't heard from anyone in a few hours, not until almost half nine when mum came in to say goodnight before going to bed. She hugged me, kissed my forehead and just as she was about to shut the bedroom door and leave, I called her back for another hug that lasted a good five minutes. Now PJ's in here apologising for upsetting me earlier and trying to convince me to drink the entire bottle of water he brought up for me. Apparently Jamie instructed him not to talk about anything to do with my coming home with tear-stained cheeks and puffy, red eyes, or about skipping dinner. Though, not surprisingly, PJ isn't very good at obeying such instructions.

"Are you okay?" he breathes, finally asking the question saying that's obviously been on his mind,  
"Mhmm," I hum, "I'm okay."  
"What happened?" he asks hesitantly,  
"I kind of lost it a bit and screamed at my psychologist," I tell him,  
"What about?"  
"I don't think that's something we should talk about," I say quietly, and he looks at me for a moment, "Peej, I can't talk about it…"  
"Okay," he assures me, "Things've been a bit crazy for you lately and I know there's more going on than what you're telling me, but just know that I'm here for you, okay?"  
"Okay," I smile,  
"Can you promise me something?"  
"Depends,"  
"If something really bad is going on, because I notice things, I need you to be straight with me, okay? It's honestly starting to scare me. You and dad are talking a lot, I'm not allowed to ask about it, you're going to appointments and I don't even know for sure if they're with a therapist like what you guys are telling me, for all I know, it could be anything…"

"Peej, what are you scared of?" I ask, and he suddenly looks very small,  
"Dan, I don't even know… Are you- are you really okay? Are you sick? Is something really wrong that you're not telling me?"  
"No, Peej, no, no, no. I'm not sick, I promise," I say and he sucks in a breath and nods, "Nothing's happening and I'm okay,"  
"I worry about you…" he murmurs,  
"I know, and I'm sorry," I say.  
"At least you have Phil now too, huh?" he smiles, lightening the mood a little, and I giggle.  
"Yeah," I laugh, "I do…"  
"You guys spend a little bit of time alone together at his place…" he winks,  
"What's that supposed to mean?" I laugh.  
"Have you… you know?" he raises an eyebrow and winks again, I know it's something that people our age expect to happen, but no. I haven't slept with him. Nothing like it. I'm scared.

PJ notices my quiet and taps on my leg a bit and I snap out of it,  
"Um, I don't- I don't wanna talk about that," I say, and PJ suddenly looks even more concerned. I just can't win! No matter what I do, I'm causing worry! I could probably get into all the top universities in the world, come down stairs and present them all with the good news and they'd still be worried! Jesus!  
"Dan, I know I asked this before, but…" here it comes… "Phil's not pressuring you, is he?"  
"No. For what's probably the fifth time, Phil is not pressuring me," I say stalely.  
"Sorry…"  
"No, you're not," I tell him, "You're going to ask again and again."  
"I'm just worried…" he replies meekly before his voice becomes more confident, "I just don't want him doing anything you don't want,"  
"He's not going to take advantage of me or do anything I don't want, okay?! I'm never going to let that happen again and Phil isn't like that! This is different!"

You know what? I really need to fucking stop talking. Why do I keep doing this? I open my mouth and I fuck myself over. I need to think before I speak. PJ's frozen, mouth agape and eyes darting from me to random points in the room.  
"Peej, I didn't mean it like that, I just-"  
"No, no," he shakes his head, "No, you- that was all true. Dan, please… tell me what happened,"  
"Nothing happened!" I insist, raising my voice.  
"Dan, who was it? What happened?" he continues and I look at him, every ounce of strength I have is going into preventing myself from crying,  
"I said," I yell, "Nothing Happened!"  
"Dan…"  
"Leave me alone, I'm going to bed," I growl and turn away from him, pretending to busy myself with my pyjamas – I really need to wash these – and I hear the door close. He's gone.

The tears finally fall and I climb into bed, sobbing a little into the sheets as I pull the duvet up over my head. I close my eyes and all I can see is my dad. It's not uncommon after emotional days, so I'm not even surprised anymore. Sometimes it'll just be good memories of days when we went to the zoo, or went to the pool, but other times it's flash-backs, memories of the times he would sneak into my bedroom at night. I didn't even know it wasn't normal, I didn't know it was wrong. I didn't understand for a long time and I hate him. I hate him so much. Sometimes I wish that someone would have noticed, I know it's not mum's fault, but I just wish that I had known to tell someone.

It started with little things like holding me and sitting me on his lap even when I didn't want to, when he came in to tuck me in after mum had said goodnight he would kiss me on the lips, and slowly it became more and more. Then one night when he was laying with me in my bed after mum had gone to sleep he didn't just put his hand up my shirt like normal… this time he put his hand down my pants and… it continued to escalate until he started having sex with me the day after my sixth birthday. It hurt. A lot. Every time. Afterward he would make me shower and wash off the sweat and other bodily fluids he'd left on – or in – my body while he watched. Suddenly I feel sick again.

"How're you doing, cherub?" Phil asks as he slips down beside me and slides his arm around my waist as I lift my head from its loll, "Baby, what are you doing in here?" I've been firmly planted, sort of sleeping, in the back of the library for a little while now, the fact that Phil was here told me that it was probably lunch. "You haven't been in class since period four," he adds.  
"Hmm… I'm tired," I say, "I didn't sleep well,"  
"Yeah, you don't look like you're feeling all that great," he pulls me closer and kisses my temple, "Do you want me to walk you home? I think it's a little better than you camping out back here for the rest of the day,"  
"Yes, please," I yawn, and he helps me up. His hands are warm and his smile is sweet, he doesn't even seem to care that he'll be missing the rest of the school day.

Once we're at my place and up in my room, he tucks me in under the black, white and grey checkered duvet and strokes my hair gently until I encourage him to get under the covers and cuddle me. Slowly I'm drifting off to sleep and I'm so incredibly relaxed by my steady breathing and Phil's presence… Until I'm being shaken awake and Phil is looking at me with wide eyes and a scared face. What the fuck have I done now? Seriously, I'm getting real tired, _real_ quick of all this shit. Like, come on! Yes, my mental health is a little all over the place, but that's no excuse for me to seriously lose it. I don't want that! I just want to fucking be normal. I sigh and look at Phil for a moment before braving it and straight up asking him what's wrong.

"Dan… you were practically crying, and…" he's shaking his head as he talks,  
"And what?" I swallow,  
"And you looked scared, like really scared, are you okay?"  
"That's all?" I ask,  
"That's all? Dan, that's not good," he tells me,  
"I mean, yeah, you're right. Sorry, um… I had a really rough day yesterday and sleep hasn't exactly been easy," I explain, and he takes me into his arms. It's warm here with him, warm and safe.

I lean up and kiss him on the cheek, pulling his head down so that I can reach his lips for the next kiss. He pushes my fringe from my eyes and kisses the tip of my nose,  
"You're just _absolutely lovely_ , darling…" he murmurs as he kisses my neck.  
"You're gorgeous," I whisper in reply, and his laugh is like music as he thanks me and continues kissing my face. And then I do it. I slip my hands beneath his the hem of his shirt and then pull it off over his head, he looks impressed by me for a moment before his lips find mine once more. He bites my bottom lip and I let out a small whimper before parting my lips slightly and inviting his tongue inside for him to deepen the kiss… and something happens. He leans over me, his hands in my hair and his tongue in my mouth and a wave of arousal sweeps throughout my entire body. An experience I've never had the pleasure of living through before.

Now, don't get me wrong, I've been turned on before, but never have I felt such an instant surge in my entire life, and clearly Phil's felt it too because his eyes are wide and I can feel how hard he's gotten against my leg.  
"Fuck," he breathes with a giggle, "That was hot." I hum in agreement and he slips my top off and suddenly it's laying on the floor, making friends with Phil's shirt. My shaking hands run down his body and I lean up to kiss him and close my eyes, my mind flooding with images of myself in this position before, only with a different, much older man on top of me.

I gasp and try to shake the thoughts, but they're not leaving.  
"Dan," Phil's steady voice penetrates my thoughts, "Daniel, come back to me," he says, "It's alright, Dan, you're okay…"  
"I'm sorry," I weep, my voice straining a little, "I- I can't…"  
"That's okay," he whispers to me, looking me straight in the eyes with a sincere smile, "You don't need to be sorry. Do you want to talk about-"  
"No!" I answer too quickly, "I mean, no, thanks. I'm fine,"  
"If you ever want to talk about anything though, I'm right here for you."  
"Thanks…" I smile, and he looks up at the ceiling for a moment before his eyes find mine again,  
"Dan?" he murmurs,  
I smile at him and let out a breathy "Yeah," before he takes in a breath and looks at me properly,  
"I love you, Daniel."

I don't want to go. I do not want to go. I'll just play it cool to Phil and then panic later. Yeah, that'll work.  
"I love you, Phil," I giggle as he kisses me goodbye just in time for me to run upstairs and get changed before my psychologist appointment this afternoon,  
"I love you too, angel," he beams, "Call me if you need me, yeah?" and I nod, because both last week and the week before I've needed to hear his voice after my appointments just because it's so full of love and care. Also, I would rather listen to someone putting my hand through a blender while it's still attached to my arm than Jerry's voice. I watch him walk down the naturally bright street until he turns into his own street about two hundred and fifty metres away and then I let myself in, immediately greeted by mum.  
"You look so cute and happy together!" she squeals as she hugs me tightly,  
"Thanks mum," I laugh, "Shouldn't you be at work?"  
"Oh, no," she smiles, "I had to get your da- Jamie to come and pick me up, I wasn't feeling very well."

I let her slip of the tongue slide. I understand that it happens sometimes, hell even I do it, but I can't help but catch that last part.  
"Are you okay?" I ask her, scanning her face, she's still smiling and she looks fine,  
"Yes, sweetie, I'm fine," she smiles, crinkling her nose as she lets out a quiet laugh, "Just some morning sickness… in the afternoon," she laughs.  
"And that's normal?" I check, and she nods,  
"You probably don't remember the last time I was pregnant-"  
"Because I was a literal fetus," I laugh,  
"You're still a fetus to me, honey," she chuckles, "But lots of completely weird things can be totally normal, don't worry about anything unless Jamie and I give you the OK."

"Alright," I smile, hugging her again,  
"Jamie'll take you in about five minutes," she says, directing me toward the stairs, "Go put your stuff away." I shake my head with a smile and make my way upstairs, shoving my school stuff into the bottom of my cupboard and then washing my face in the bathroom before heading back downstairs, side-stepping PJ so that I don't bash straight into him, and jump into the car. And then the anxiety hits. Last week I completely went off at Jerry and now I have to see him again…  
"Jamie?" I ask meekly now that we're about ten minutes away from the building,  
"What's up?" he turns to me for a second and then smiles, re-focusing on the road.

"I um… after last week- I didn't really think about- I…" I struggle to get the words out. Really, I hadn't thought about what would happen when I go back this week until I was halfway home from school. I've just tried to put it out of my mind the best I can, but now that we're almost there… What if Jerry hates me? Can therapists hate patients? Is that allowed? I'm going to have to talk about it, and my dad, and… oh god. I can't do this. I can't do this. "Jamie, I can't-"  
"Things like what happened last week happen a lot, on a much bigger scale, all the time," he assures me, "Nothing bad is going to happen, okay? I promise." He stops the car and motions for me to get out, and of course, he comes with me. He always does, just to make sure I'm fine, and then he sits patiently out in the waiting room for me for when I'm done.

Jamie's always helped me whenever he can. When I was younger and had just become friends with PJ, I was, understandably, uncomfortable and somewhat scared of men that looked about my dad's age, maybe a bit older or younger too, I don't really know where the cut-off was. The first time I went to PJ's house for the night I was both relieved and scared, I remember it so well, it was a few weeks before my dad left. I was relieved that I wouldn't have to be alone with him that night, but I was so scared that PJ's dad would be the same and that it would be even worse because it would be with someone that I didn't know. At least, I thought, my dad loved me, which made it a little more okay in my mind, I guess. At about eight that night, my usual bedtime, he called PJ's dad to "say goodnight to Danny". He told me that he loved me, he missed me, and that we would make up for the night's loss the next day.

When Jamie saw that I was crying after we'd hung up he thought that I just missed my parents and was homesick or something, he sat me down and told me that it was okay and that I could go home if I wanted to. I shook my head and told him that I didn't want to leave, he smiled and hugged me before taking me back to PJ and putting on a movie for us. Jamie didn't do anything bad, and in my young, naïve mind, that was spectacular and I thought that PJ had the best dad in the entire world. I guess I still think that Jamie's the best dad in the whole world.

The day that I pushed PJ into the creek on that school excursion was about a week after dad left. I still had the idea that he was coming back, mum was called down to the school and so was Jamie, they talked for a bit and decided that my "out-of-character behaviour" was probably as a result of my dad leaving. Jamie told my mum that he knew I was a good kid and meant no harm, and that it was just a silly, playful argument between children. He had never met mum before, he'd only ever spoken to dad a couple of times when Jamie had called to confirm that I was, in fact, allowed to be at their house and such. Jamie still says he got a bad feeling about dad, just something that made him feel like he wasn't a good person. The fact that he left mum and I confirmed that for Jamie at the time. He helped mum a lot when she was trying to organise a new work schedule so that she could look after me properly as a newly single parent. He babysat me a lot and I trusted him with my life, and mum's, so I was quite happy when they started spending time together too.

The second I leave the little office I step out into reception and connect eyes with Jamie,  
"I don't want to come back," I mutter as he stands to follow me, the second we're in the car again, driving down the road so there's no escape, Jamie finally responds to what I'd told him inside,  
"What happened?"  
"I don't want to talk to him anymore," I say, and yes, I am completely aware of how much of a child I sound like right now. My arms are crossed over my chest and I'm probably pouting without noticing it,  
"Did something happen?" he asks,  
"He kept trying to make me talk about things I don't want to talk about," I huff, "If I say I don't want to talk about something, I don't want to talk about it. It's simple. He wouldn't take no for an answer."  
"Are you positive you don't want to see him anymore? We can make an appointment with someone else, that's not an issue, but you've already gotten so much out on the table with Jerry and I know you didn't mean to tell him so much last week, but I also know it can be hard to start all over again with someone else," he tells me.

I don't think I could handle telling someone else. Too many people know already and the idea of telling anyone else is enough to make me feel sick.  
"Can I just talk to you instead?" I sigh, I really am out of options, but there is no way in hell I'm going back to Jerry, and Jamie is probably the best person anyway…  
"Of course you can," he smiles.  
"Can I ask you something?" I ask, and he nods, "Do you know anything about my dad, like where he is, or where he was, or… anything at all?"  
"No, mate, I'm sorry," he sighs, "I know even less than you do. We are going to have to talk to your mum about this at some point too."

"Do we have to tell her?" I whimper,  
"We do," he says, "I'm sorry, son. The sooner we tell her, the better."  
"It'll kill her…" I breathe, mum can't possibly handle news like this on a good day, but she's pregnant! That'll make it even worse!  
"Your mum is a lot tougher than you might think she is," he says, "Maybe we should sit down and have a conversation about it on Thursday, does that sound okay?"  
"I don't want to…"  
"Daniel, please," Jamie begs, "You know that I only want what's best for you,"  
"Yeah…" I breathe. "I guess Thursday is okay."


	9. Chapter 9

Thursday morning. Great. Just great. I pull myself from my bed, regret being born, get dressed, straighten my hair and consider 'accidentally' falling down the stairs as I walk down them, though before I can make a proper decision PJ calls out and asks me to bring his books home from school today since he's going to be out. Ah. That explains why Jamie chose tonight to tell mum, because PJ won't be here.  
"I'll be home at like nine or something, but I don't really want to carry them around for ages, you know?" he says, and I agree. We walk the twenty-five minute walk to school together and he asks me why I seem off today, and if I'm okay, and if I want to talk about it. I seem off today because I'm not okay because I do not want to talk about it, but I can't tell him that. I just tell I'm fine and continue our walk, taking in the scenery to distract myself.

The sky only has a few light-grey clouds today, it's a little warmer than it was yesterday and we're just in time to watch the regular morning traffic go by. It's a rather boring walk, lots of repetition: tree, tree, car, tree, driveway, grass, tree, driveway, driveway, car, dog- whoops, I bumped into PJ. Where was I? Oh yeah, driveway, grass, more grass, mail box, car, car, car, traffic light, Phil, house, grass, tree – Phil!  
"Hey, Phil!" PJ calls out, and Phil turns around, beaming when he sees us.  
"Morning," he says to PJ, moving to my side and wrapping his arm around my waist upon seeing me fiddling with my own fingers, "You alright, sweetness?" he asks me.  
"Yeah, I'll be fine," I sidle into him a little more as we walk, at this point I honestly don't even care if anyone we know sees. I don't particularly care about what people at school might say,  
"Aw baby," he whispers in my ear, "You look like you need some cuddles. Do you want to sleep over tomorrow night?"  
"Yeah… I'll ask mu-" Mum. Would she let me leave her sight ever again after I tell her? Will things be really different, or only just a little bit different? Oh god.

"Mum?" PJ asks, attempting to finish my sentence, and I nod, "Are you sure you're okay?"  
"Yeah, I have to talk with mum and Jamie about some things tonight and I'm just really worried," I tell them, I can't be bothered lying.  
"What about?" Peej probes,  
"Nothing, don't worry about it,"  
"So it's about whatever it is I'm not allowed to ask about?" He seems a little upset now, and not the sad kind of upset, but… almost like he's frustrated or angry with me but trying to mask it. "I don't know when all this started, but I feel like since whenever it was that it did start I've been edged out and left clueless! I don't know what it is I'm supposed to do or say anymore." With that he walks on ahead and I just drop my head as he rushes off to school and away from me.

I know that PJ's been left out of the loop a bit lately, and I know I've been distant and weird, while at the same time being a little clingy. Things are complicated and there really is a lot going on… I know it's not his fault, and I honestly feel sorry that he's being affected by me and all of the stupid trouble I've put everyone though. PJ and I rarely fight. When we have fought it's been sorted out fairly quickly, but generally, it doesn't happen and we certainly haven't had an incident since what happened last November.  
"Dan," Phil sighs, "What's going on?"  
"Things are just a little difficult at home at the moment…"  
"How come? Has something happened?" he asks, rubbing my back,  
"It's all because of me…" I whisper softly, I actually don't think he's heard me because he's being really quiet.  
"It can't possibly be all your fault," he says. He definitely heard me.

"Phil… I'm ruining everyone's lives, and they're trying to be supportive and help me but I'm still just as fucked up as ever. Things aren't getting better and I don't even expect them to anymore, everything is escalating!" I cry, my heart heavy and my lip trembling. It's all getting too much and I don't know how to cope anymore…  
"No, Dan, you're not messed up," he says, "It's perfectly normal to struggle like this, alright? It happens and you can get past it. I know you can, baby bear."  
"I heard mum and Jamie arguing…" I whimper, "They never fight, but they have three times in the past two and a half weeks. It's all because of me. I'm missing classes, I'm depressed, I'm skipping meals, I'm not talking to them about what's going on, I try to be happy and I try to be myself and sometimes it's like everything's fine, like everything's normal… but it's not… They're fighting because of me. I'm going to break up our family just like I did before!" I ruin everything.

Half of the day has passed and I'm not feeling as sorry for myself as I was this morning, which I guess is a good thing because I can't image how awful today would be if I was a walking lump of misery. I walk down the hall to the library, a little late from lunch – not that it matters because I'm only going to my free study periods and there's little to no supervision – it's nice to walk down past the lockers and doors to classrooms when it's quiet and no one's around, it's peaceful and a calm-  
"Hey, Howell!" a male voice calls from behind me, interrupting my thoughts. I turn around and I'm met with the sight of Jacob and two of his friends, Matt and Ian. They look a little… not pleased to see me, despite obviously having sought me out for confrontation.  
"Hey, Jacob," I say, looking at him a little confused because he's very close friends with Chris and has been friends with me by extension for a little while. We've hung out quite a few times, Matt and Ian as well, but I guess Chris would have spoken to him…

"We heard you got yourself a little _boy_ friend," Jacob states nastily, "When Sarah told us you wouldn't fuck her I just thought you were frigid or had a tiny dick or something," he laughs.  
"Yeah, apparently she's not my type," I joke, and with that he's at my side and pushing me against the lockers with a loud _slam_. I feel it through my back and the pain quickly fades as seconds pass after the subsequent impact.  
"What is your type then?" Ian asks, gritting his teeth and looking like he really ought to get more vitamins in his diet,  
"Well, you know…" I trail off as they stare me down, Jacob and Matt's hands keeping me pushed against the cool metal, "I like guys?"  
"You like cock then, mate?" Jacob spits, "That's fucking disgusting."  
"I've seen you two walking home, kissing, holding hands, cuddling as you walk down the street," Matt chimes in, "Why don't ya keep ya dirty faggot play for the bedroom, huh, mate?"

Jacob's grip around my already bruised wrist loosens slightly, maybe he'll let up and let me go. Maybe it's all over. Ouch! Fuck, I can't breathe properly. His hand has moved entirely from my arm and is now around my neck, my arm being held back by Ian now.  
"Does looking at me turn you on?" Jacob spits in my face, his warm saliva cooling slightly as it slowly trails down my face. It's disgusting. This is what Phil has been subjected to since before he even came to this school. This is what I was afraid of. This is why I didn't want to be gay! This is why I just wanted to be straight! Why can't I ever just be normal?! I don't even know if you're up there, but can't something just go right, please, God?!

"Everyone knows what your type are about," Ian pipes up again, and more than anything I just want to punch him in the mouth, "You're fuckin' sick, you know that?"  
"What, are ya touchin' little boys behind closed doors too, ya faggot?" The words spew from Matt's mouth and stab me straight through the chest, the tears begin to prick in my eyes and it hits me. I'm going to be just like my dad. I'm going to hurt my kids the way he hurt me. No! Mum's baby! No! No! No!  
"Oi, yuck, mate," Jacob responds, "I bet he's getting hard just thinking about them little kids,"  
"We thought we was ya friends, mate," Matt sneers, "But ya only was cause ya thought ya could 'ave a perv, didn't ya?"  
"No-" I manage to squeak, but Jacob pushes harder against my windpipe and cuts off my speech, rendering my solution of talking it through with these guys completely useless.  
"You're sick, and revolting, and you think you have the right to walk around here with us like you're not a disgusting pervert. It's a good thing fags can't have kids because we all know what you homos do with them behind closed doors," Jacob slurs, and once again I feel it right in my chest. He lets go of me and just stands there while I regain my breath and composure,  
"Don't you ever talk to us again," Ian says as they walk off, "Or it'll be worse next time."

I hitch in another breath as I watch the three of them walk into the library, I can't go in there now. I can't. I need to get out, but where do I go? Suddenly I'm running, I don't know where, but I guess I'll be better off wherever it is my legs are taking me. I run out of the school, my body working off of pure adrenalin and unable to feel the effects of my lack of fitness, and I'm running, running, running as fast as I can to get anywhere else but wherever I am now. I need to get away. I can't become my dad. I can't be like him. I'm going to be like him. What if it's too late? What if I am going to be like that? What if it's all just a big cycle and I can't stop it?! If I just keep running, it'll be okay. I'll get away from everyone and I'll stop fucking everyone's lives up, and I won't ruin our family, and I won't become my dad. Everything will be okay the second I'm not there anymore. Why am I running? I'll never be too far away to cause damage! I need to do something else. I can't hurt them all anymore. I can't do it. I stop running, looking around all there is are trees, a wooden bench, and the voice in the back of my mind that's telling me to calm down and go home despite how negatively I affect everyone. Even if I wanted to I couldn't go back. I don't even know where I am.

 _"Received 12:42pm – Jacob: I hope you fucking kill yourself, faggot."_

 _"Received 1:22pm – Peej: My thing this afternoon was cancelled. Apparently Jane Randolph has the flu. What's a show without the star, right? Haha, I'm in the library, where're you?"_

 _"Received 1:37pm – Peej: Dan, I'm with Phil, so where are you?"_

 _"Received 1:37pm – Phil: I'm in the library waiting for you, sweet-pea. Where are you now?_ _J_ _"_

 _"Received 1:42pm – Peej: Did you go home?"_

 _"Missed Call 1:42pm – Peej (PJ Liguori)."_

 _"Received 1:44pm – Peej: Seriously, are you not at school?"_

 _"Received 1:46pm – Jess: Mate, where you at? PJ just called me and he's freaking out!"_

 _"Missed Call 1:46pm – Phil (Phil Lester 3)."_

 _"Received 1:47pm – Peej: Where are you, Dan?"_

 _"Received 1:47pm – Phil: Precious, where are you? I love you xx, please text me back…"_

 _"Received 2:00pm – Peej: I'm coming home."_

 _"Received 2:01pm – Jess: If you get this, can you call me? Or Peej? Please?"_

 _"Received 2:03pm – Phil: I'm starting to worry, I can't find you anywhere…"_

 _"Received 2:07pm – Chris: I just spoke to Jacob, what happened?! Are you okay?"_

 _"Received 2:08pm – Chris: I swear I didn't say anything to him, I'm so sorry…"_

 _"Missed Call 2:10pm – Phil (Phil Lester 3)._

 _"Received 2:10pm – Phil: Chris just came and apologised to me? He said he wants to talk, so I'll let you know what happens. Call me? Xx"_

 _"Received 2:12pm – Phil: OH MY GOD, I SPOKE TO CHRIS! Did Jacob hurt you? Dan, I need you to reply to me, okay? Where are you?!"_

 _"Received 2:13pm – Phil: Sugar, I need you to tell me if you're okay. Please?"_

 _"Received 2:17pm – Phil: Dan, I'm really worried… You're scaring me…"_

 _"Missed Call 2:22pm – Peej (PJ Liguori)."_

 _"Received 2:23pm – Peej: WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! I just got home and no one's here! Where are you, Daniel!?"_

 _"Missed Call 2:24pm – Peej (PJ Liguori)."_

 _"Received 2:24pm – Peej: Dan, I'm really scared, please reply to someone…"_

 _"Received 2:24pm – Peej: Phil just called me, what happened?! Where are you?! I'm calling mum and dad."_

 _"Missed Call 2:25pm – Peej (PJ Liguori)."_

 _"Missed Call 2:25pm – Peej (PJ Liguori)."_

 _"Missed Call 2:29pm – Mum (Caroline Liguori)."_

 _"Received 2:30pm – Mum: Honey, where are you? Can you just let us know you're okay? Everyone's very worried! I love you, my baby!"_

 _"Received 2:30pm – Phil: Dan, I love you. I don't know what to do, please just tell me you're okay…"_

 _"Received 2:33pm – Hey mate, your mum, PJ, and I are really worried, he says you're not answering anyone. It's okay if you need some time alone, just let us know you're okay. We don't have to worry about talking to mum tonight, we can leave it until you're ready. No stress."_

 _"Incoming call 2:36pm – Peej (PJ Liguori)."_

"Dan? Dan? Dan, are you okay?" PJ's voice echoes through the phone, it sounds shaky and scared, I think he's been crying.  
"…Peej?" my voice trembles too, if he yells at me I'm hanging up.  
"Dan! Are you okay? We've been really worried, where are you?" his panicky voice asks,  
"I, um… I'm- I think I'm okay…" I say slowly, maybe if I let the words sink in I'll believe them.  
"Okay, yeah, that's good. Where are you?"  
"I don't know…"  
"You don't know where you are?" he asks,  
"No, I don't know where I am… I was running and then I just… wasn't running…"  
"Alright, and then what?" he enquires slowly,  
"And then I was here. It's a park," I say, clutching the phone even tighter. PJ's quiet and I might as well use now to tell him everything I need to tell him. "PJ, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to fuck everything up, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry that I make everything bad, I don't mean to. I'm gonna fix it, okay? I'm going to make sure that you are happy, and that mum is happy, and that Jamie is happy, and that mum and Jamie's baby is safe. I'm not going to ruin anything for anyone ever again. I promise. I just… Peej, I don't know what to do, I'm so scared…"

"Dan, I need you to listen to me, alright?" he says, and I nod even though he can't see me, "The only thing that will make me happy, in the whole world, is for you to come home. I just called mum and she told me that she loves you and that it would make her happy to know you're alive and safe at home, and my dad won't be happy without you, do you understand?"  
"But the baby… I don't want to- I'm going to… I can't hurt the baby, Peej! I can't ruin the baby's life the way _he_ ruined mine, I'm sick and I'm going to do bad things and I'm going to hurt the baby, I know it!" I wail into the phone, tightening my grip around it for security. My knuckles are white.

"No, Dan. You're not going to do anything like that, okay? You're not going to do bad things to anyone, I promise. I know you're a good person," he replies, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about. What do you think you're going to do?"  
"I might do to the baby what _he_ did to me… " I've said enough. I've said too much.  
"Dan, what-" I hang up the phone before he can finish his sentence, turning it off completely.

It's getting dark and I'm still sitting on the bench in this park, there's someone walking towards me. I've been here for literal hours with no desire to move. I want to go home, but I'm scared. Every time I think about this whole afternoon a new wave of guilt washes over me, but it's too late now to fix it, isn't it? The dark figure is slowly getting closer to me, but they're still a little over two hundred metres away, I can't see if it's anyone I recognise, all I can tell is that they have a very male-like build yet are still quite slim in figure. I think this counts as running away from home, doesn't it? Have I accidentally run away from home? Who the fuck accidentally runs away from home? Someone that's mentally unstable, probably.

The person's nearer now, they're speeding up. Maybe if I'm lucky they'll be a murderer or something. Just because I've promised not to kill myself doesn't mean I can't hope someone else does it for me.  
"Dan, is that you?" the person, definitely female, asks me, I don't respond. I still can't tell who it is, my vision is still a little bit blurry from crying. My eyes sting. "Dan, it's me, Jessica," she says, and it is her. She takes a seat next to me and looks at my probably tear-stained face. We just sit in silence for a moment before she speaks up, "Everyone's out looking for you. I texted them when I saw you here, so they know you're safe."  
"I'm sorry…" I breathe, my breath shuddering as I inhale again,  
"No, no. It's not your fault," she takes off her oversized jacket, which upon close inspection I believe is PJ's, and drapes it over my shoulders. "I know what happened with Jacob and the others, I'm so sorry that happened… Andrew saw everything and told the principle,"  
"Why would he do that?" I ask as a cool gust of wind blows past us.

"Because Chris told him to," Jessica says seriously, "It's the least he could do, I guess. I got the whole story out of him, including what that Andrew guy saw. Dan, I need you to know that nothing they said is true or viable."  
"I need to make everything okay…" I murmur into the collar of the jacket, "I don't know what to do."  
"Everyone knows you're sorry for worrying them, no one's mad at you. It'll be alright if you come with me, your parents and everyone should be at your house by the time we get there" she stands up and gestures for me to do the same. I stand up on shaky legs and the second I'm up I wrap my arms around her for a second before standing up straight.  
"Okay," I nod, "I need to go home."

After a forty-five minute walk home with Jessica, with everyone waiting for me at home, Mum, PJ, Jamie, and Phil are just sitting in the lounge room. From the entrance hall I think I can hear mum and Jamie trying to get to know Phil a little better. Poor guy. Jessica shoots me an encouraging smile and the door clicks shut behind us. The second I shrug off PJ's jacket there are arms around me, Chris's arms, and Jessica smiles before wandering into the next room. The voices in the next room stop and there's some shuffling.  
"Dan, I'm sorry…" he murmurs, and I nod into his shoulder, hugging him back, "I was horrible, I'm so glad you're okay…" he says quietly, "I'm really sorry for how I reacted, and for what happened with Jacob, Matt and Ian."  
"I forgive you," I whisper, and he thanks me, letting me go. I take a deep breath before walking in. Everyone's looking at me, but finally I'm greeted by Phil practically throwing himself at me, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my cheek, "Sweetheart, you have no idea how worried I- we all were," he whispers into my ear, "I love you," he says, "I love you so much."

"Honey, we were all really worried," mum says, wrapping her arm around my back, ignoring the fact that Phil still hasn't let me go,  
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…" I mumble and Phil slowly retracts his embrace, stepping back to join Chris as Jessica migrates to PJ's side.  
"I know, I know, baby," mum kisses my temple, "We were just worried because you wouldn't answer anybody, and you weren't at school, and you weren't at home. Then PJ told us you two had a bit of a spat this morning and then something happened at school, too? I know you're not feeling too great at the moment, but we need to know where you are and that you're safe."

"Okay, I'm sorry," I say truthfully and mum smiles, hugging me closer to her before turning to Phil and Chris, "Are you boys alright to get home, you too, Jessica?" They all nod with polite smiles and say their goodbyes before Phil pecks me on the cheek and they're both out the door.  
"Come sit down, Daniel," Jamie smiles at me sympathetically and gesturing to the couch,  
"I'm going to sort something for dinner, will you boys be okay?" she asks and Jamie kisses her cheek and assures her that we'll be fine. She strides into the kitchen and I let out a laugh, even after all of this stress she's got her same cheeky attitude.  
"Dan, I'm really sorry about this morning…" PJ finally speaks up,  
"You're entitled to feel like that…" I shrug, PJ just sits quietly.  
"Dan, PJ told me what you said to him on the phone," Jamie says professionally, "I think that we need to have a conversation about all that. Do you think we should call your mum in here and talk about everything as a family?"

As a family. That's all I need to hear. Once I get everything out in the open things will be easier for everyone, right? Maybe that's what I need to do. PJ looks hopeful but also scared and his face tells me that the second he knows what's really going on everything will change – with everyone – but will be better in the long run. Mum and Jamie might even go back to normal. This isn't about me anymore, this is about us as a family and that's the only reason why I'm about to tell them all. This is the right decision, I just hope that they don't think I'm disgusting, or that it's my fault, or that mum doesn't blame me for dad leaving…  
"Yeah," I breathe, and Jamie looks a little shocked at my malleability, but also a little relieved. He gets up and smiles at me encouragingly before heading off into the kitchen, emerging a few moments later with mum.

"What's going on?" PJ asks and I can feel the tremble in my bones, the vibration starting in my jaw. I'm scared. This is what I have to do, but I'm so scared…  
"Is everything okay, sweetie?" mum asks, and I swallow the saliva that's pooled in my mouth.  
"Um…" I haven't even started speaking real words and there are tears running down my cheeks, "My da-" No. I've changed my mind, I can't do this! "My depression is, uh- it's getting bad again…" Technically it's not a lie, it's just not what I had intended to tell them… Jamie looks just short of disappointed and mum takes in a deep breath,  
"Oh sweetie," she gushes, rushing to envelop me in her arms, "Is this what you and Jamie have been talking about lately?"  
"I guess…"  
"Why didn't you tell me? Sweetheart, I'm always here for you! I love you so much and I'm so proud of you for trying to look after yourself and get help when you need it," she tells me sternly but lovingly. I look up at PJ and he's not buying it. He knows I'm not telling the whole truth.


	10. Chapter 10

When I was thirteen, I got a letter in the mail. It was the scariest moment I had experienced in a long time, and I haven't experienced many things scarier than that since. I didn't get a spooky letter comprised of a piece of paper with magazine letters cut out and pasted onto it, threatening me with a haunting or murder if I don't come to the cemetery at midnight on Halloween, and it wasn't my phone bill after I went over my data limit… it was a letter from a dad. I read it over and over, on the one hand I was terrified and on the other I was a little hopeful. I was terrified because he knew where I lived, because of what the letter said, because now he knew how to contact me… But I was hopeful because deep down I still wanted him to love me despite what he did to me and how I felt, and still feel, about him. I pushed it down to the back of my bottom bedside table drawer, the one filled with a dozen pairs of underwear that no one would ever dig through.

I dig through the bottom draw, scattering underpants all over the floor. I haven't touched this note in over a year, if it's not in here, someone else has it and if someone else has it I'll- Oh. Here it is. It's crumbled and wrinkled quite a bit, but it's here. I unfold the note and stare down at the handwriting that I've studied and read over a thousand times, it's like I can feel the energy that he's left imprinted on the paper. It sounds stupid, but I'm sure that metaphysical feelings count for something, right? It brings back that feeling of hope… until I remember how terrified I am of him. Secretly, the fear I first had when I received that letter has never really gone away, and now it's slowly nearing the ten year mark and- I don't want to think about that. I look down at the slightly smudged ink and scan over it again, reliving the same experience as the first time I read it.

 _Dear Danny,  
Happy Thirteenth Birthday! Your mother didn't tell me you moved so it's her fault I haven't been able to contact you before. She just wants to keep us apart but we'll be together again soon. I miss you, and I know you love your daddy best.  
Lot of love, Dad._

Needless to say, we weren't together again soon. It's only short, but it's something.  
"Dan?" PJ knocks on my bedroom door before opening it and I quickly shove the letter back into the drawer and start picking up the items of underclothing I tossed onto the floor earlier, "What are you doing?" he laughs.  
"Just tidying," I smile and push the drawer shut. It's been a couple of weeks since I freaked out and 'ran away', he slept in my bed that night and when I slept at Phil's the next he called both of us about five times each to make sure I was still there and okay. Things are a lot more normal now.

"I need to tell you something," he says, plopping himself down on my bed, "Sarah asked me out today…"  
"Oh?"  
"I said no," he tells me quickly,  
"I'd hope so because she is… she sure is something," I say, "You don't have to say no because of me though, if you've fallen head first out of a tree and now you like her, who am I to stand in the way of… love?"  
"I don't like her," he says, letting out a small chortle at my comment, "I don't want to go out with her, I just thought I'd tell you. Are you staying at Phil's tonight?"  
"Yeah," I grin stupidly, "He says he's got a present for me,"  
"I'm surprised that mum is letting you stay over the night before your birthday," he chuckles, "She won't be able to wake you up with presents. Do you think she'll give them to me instead?" he laughs louder.  
"Shut up," I giggle, "I think I'd rather wake up to Phil than mum."

"How're things with Phil anyway?"  
"I love him, Peej," I scrunch my face up in an embarrassed smile, "With everything that's been going on I haven't been able to focus on him a lot, but things are looking better,"  
"Are they?" he asks. Silence.  
"Some problems don't just go away…" I breathe. He knows that something's up and that I still haven't told him. I feel like I really don't give him enough credit. We've been dancing around this subject for too long.  
"Dan, what happened?" he asks, running his hand through his hair, "Who… hurt you?" I open my mouth to object but he beats me to it, "Please, Dan…"  
"Can we discuss this later? I can't- I can't talk about it…" I sigh, essentially giving in, "Can we talk about something else?"  
"Alright," he resigns, "Phil told me that Chris is sorting things out with you guys. I haven't spoken to him since his outburst,"  
"Yeah, he says he was a complete asshole and didn't handle it well, he spoke to Phil and cleared some more stuff up. He's really sorry," I say,  
"Good, what he said really made me feel sick," PJ says, and I nod, "As long as he means his apologies."

A few more brief words with PJ, a text message and a phone call to Jamie, and a hug from mum later, I'm out the door and on my way to Phil's house. Jamie didn't want to tell Peej and mum, but I told him that I can't live with secrets like that anymore but I also can't tell them myself. He's going to talk to them tonight while I'm at Phil's, sounds like a great Friday night for them all. I round the corner into Phil's street and see him standing at his mailbox waiting for me, he smiles when he sees me and wraps his arms around my neck the second I'm close enough for him to reach for me. He squeezes me tightly and whispers how much he's missed me in my ear before leading me inside and pushing me onto the couch where climbs on top of me and kisses me passionately. I grin into the kiss and Phil pulls away and helps me sit up so that he can hold me.

Phil is so upbeat all the time, minus the few times I've kind of scared him, but even still, he's positive. You wouldn't know that his family is estranged, you wouldn't know that he suffers from anxiety – he's really incredible. I wish I could be as brave as him.  
"Phil?" I ask, and he turns to me with a smile, "Why do you like me? I mean, I'm just… whatever the hell I am. Unimpressive, awkward-"  
"Dan, stop," he interrupts me with a slight frown, "I like you because you're adorable, and because you're awkward, and because you're sweet and cuddly. You're strong, and you're making a conscious effort to better yourself," he sweeps my fringe from my eyes and looks lovingly into them, "You're wonderful, Dan. And I love you."  
"I love you too, but…"  
"But what, bear?" he searches my eyes for an answer and I meet his darting pupils with a begrudging stare, steadying his gaze.

He thinks I'm all these things that I'm not. He loves me for things that I simply am not.  
"Phil," I answer him, my voice hushed to soften the blow of disappointment that he's about to receive, "I'm- I'm not all of those things. I'm not strong, Phil…"  
"I know that you are, please don't tell yourself that you're not," he sighs, running his hand over mine before clasping it gently,  
"I'm not strong," I whisper, "I'm not. Phil… I tried to kill myself, that's not strong."  
"You… you what?" he looks at me through wide, blinking eyes, and his grip on my hand tightens,  
"I took the entire bottle of sleeping pills I had in my room," I tell him, not daring to look up because I don't want him to see me, not now, not when I'm about to cry. He's quiet. All I can hear is his breathing, "I swallowed them all when I was sort of… breaking down. I passed out and PJ found me. I think I traumatised him."

"Dan…" Phil breathes, "Dan, you're still here, okay? You're still here and you're with me, and… I love you."  
"You don't think that I'm messed up?"  
"I know you struggle with a few things, I know that, I've always known that," he tells me seriously, pushing my head up with two fingers under my chin so that I'm forced to look at him, "Everyone has issues."  
"Phil, I'm really messed up…"  
"Angel, I'm here for you, alright? I love you, and I love being with you. If you ever want to talk to me about anything you can and you can rest assured that no matter what it is, I'm still going to love you."  
"Thanks…" I say, cuddling into his side and feeling his hands in my hair, "I love you too."  
"Promise me something?"  
"Yeah?"  
"If you're ever thinking about hurting yourself or, um, killing yourself again… call me, or if not me, somebody, okay?"  
"I'll do everything in my power to uphold that promise," I say, my voice unwavering because I really do mean it.

Phil looks really hot before bed. His hair all tousled from laying with my on his couch, his body bare – with the exception of his boxer briefs – and his smile all sleepy. He's all cuddly at night too, his personality at it's sweetest. A few times when we've been about to go to sleep he would spout out something about how he thinks that dogs are majestic creatures that deserve to rule the world, and then follow it up with something completely contradictory like, "Pugs are so small and scared… we need to protect them…" before rolling over, pulling me closer and kissing me all over my face. He does lots of really cute things. He makes me want him in ways that I never thought I'd want someone. I want him to kiss me, to get on top of me and taste my tonsils, to pin me to his bed and grind against me, to kiss all down my body, undo my pants and-

"What're you thinking about?" Phil asks, interfering with what was becoming a very pleasant train of thought,  
"You," I sigh with a smile, biting my lip and wishing it was his teeth teasing my mouth,  
"Mmm, really?" he smirks.  
"Yes, really," I giggle, and he moves across the room to his bed where I'm lying and grips the hem of my shirt before lifting it up off of my body.  
"Mmm, kitten, you're really gorgeous," Phil winks with a smile, "And what's this?" he runs his hand between my legs. How did he notice how hard I was before I did?  
"Like I said, I was thinking about you," I chuckle, "Sorry…" He lays down on the bed beside me, his hand resting on my stomach and his thumb mindlessly tracing my belly button,  
"You can say no," he begins, and I look at him properly, "Can I?" he asks, the tips of his fingers playing with the waistband of my underwear.

I'm scared. I've never been in this position; I've never wanted it before, and I've never had the option of consent. I swallow and hesitate for a short, very brief, moment, and then I nod, delving into a very new and scarily exciting experience. It'll be okay. It's Phil. I trust Phil, and I love Phil. Phil doesn't want to hurt me. He'll stop if I tell him to. He won't hate me if I need him to stop. It'll be fine. Phil loves me, and Phil cares about me.  
"You're sure?" he asks me, and I smile,  
"Yeah." I answer breathily, and he watches my face as his hand slowly dips into my underwear, and I suck in a deep, shuddery inhalation as his hand grazes my arousal. He chuckles gently and kisses the high of my cheek, and suddenly his fingers and his hand are wrapped around my shaft, deliberately tugging and flicking his wrist slowly to stimulate me further. I let out a shaky breath as he continues, and he whispers dirty, sexy things in my ear, it's quite possibly the best thing I have ever felt.

"Phil," I gasp, "St-stop," he stops his actions and his hand retreats immediately, and I can't help but smile because he listened. He actually listened to me! I grin at him and climb on top of him, kissing him passionately and letting out a little moan into his mouth, his hands roam my bare skin and little goose-bumps erupt wherever his flesh touches mine. It's tingly and it's warm, but it's also cool and wonderful. I move just a little and our members are pushed against each other, the friction working for us with every wiggle, movement or otherwise. I can feel how flushed my cheeks are, and I smile into the kiss before staring into the pools of cerulescent bliss that are his eyes. The kissing, the roaming, the gripping and the movement intensify, it's all slowly blooming into something else entirely. It's more than it's ever been before between Phil and I, and I like it. Part of me wants it to never stop, but another part of me is still scared and uneasy.

He pushes me onto my side next to him and I slip my leg between his, feeling him against me. He pushes my hair back and moves to kiss my cheek,  
"You're so beautiful…" he whispers, and my breath hitches and I freeze. All I can see is my dad, so I force my eyes open, but the image of him and the flashes of the things he did to me aren't going away. They're still blinking in my mind, I shake my head but nothing changes. I think Phil's saying something, but all I can hear is my father's voice,  
" _You're so beautiful, Danny…"  
_ I push him away, tearing myself from him as I scramble from the bed with tears in my eyes and try to pull on my pants as quickly as possible before running out the door and eventually finding myself outside.  
" _Good boy, Daniel… Just like that."_  
I shake my head to be rid of the voice and I shiver a little at the early night air, quickly pulling on my t-shirt and only just noticing that I've left my jacket and shoes inside, but I don't care.

I continue running down the street, I want to go home, but what if I shouldn't? What do I do? What happened? Oh, no. Phil. Oh god. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Um, um… I should just go home. I wipe my face and things are a little less blurry. I round the corner into my street and when I'm about three houses down from my house I stop. I can't move. I watch as the outside light flicks on and my front door opens, PJ walks outside and looks around before spotting me and running over.  
"Phil just called me, are you okay? What happened?" he pants, and scans my clearly distressed face, but I don't answer him. I just let out a whimper and fall to my knees on the grass, hands covering my face as I start to cry. It's probably the most pathetic sight in the world.  
"Dan," PJ's voice continues, "Dan, what do I do?"  
"Phil's going to hate me…" I sob, but PJ takes my hand and slowly eases me up,  
"No, he doesn't hate you. He's just worried and wants to know that you're alright, he's not angry at all," Peej assures me.

I breathe in and nod, allowing him to lead me home and bring me upstairs. He sits next to me on my bed and I look at him,  
"What happened?" PJ asks,  
"Phil and I… we were…" I start, but I don't know how to finish so I flounder for a moment, "Things go kind of… heated."  
"Did he do something? Did he pressure you?" PJ looks at me with wide eyes full of concern,  
"No, he didn't… He stopped when I told him t-to, but um…" I take in a deep breath again and swallow the bile that's threatening to taint my palette, "I started seeing my dad… hearing his voice… it was all happening again…" I squeak. Silence.  
"What do you- what do you mean?" PJ breaks the quiet of the room,  
"Peej," I cry breathily, "M-my dad… h-he- h-he raped me…"

PJ was shaken. Shocked. He even cried. He tried to convince me to tell my mum and Jamie, but I told him that Jamie already knows, which shocked him even further. I couldn't tell him anymore than that. He probably wanted more details, something a little more than a single shaken sentence. I called Phil last night and apologised too, Peej was right when he said that Phil wasn't mad, instead he was as lovely and incredible as always, so I wandered back over to his house and by ten in the evening I felt okay again and was cuddled up into him. I didn't tell him what happened. I just told him that I freaked out and he accepted it, telling me that I never have to do anything that I don't want to and that he'll never be upset at me for my decision, essentially reminding me of how incredible he is. I open my eyes and shuffle closer to him, stroking his arm gently and whisper good morning as my eyes adjust to the daylight.

"Happy birthday," Phil says, rolling over with a smile, the morning sun highlighting the cobalt colour of his eyes, "Do you feel old?"  
"Not really," I chuckle sleepily,  
"You should. You're old now."  
"Phil, you're still older than me," I laugh, "So you're old."  
"You're seventeen now, childish arguments like that just aren't acceptable anymore," he jokes, "I have something for you," he beams and kisses my cheek.  
"You didn't have to get me anything…" I blush,  
"No, I did," he says, handing me a rectangular, lavender box with a blue, lace ribbon tied around it. I tug the smallest end of the bow and it unravels, falling daintily onto the bed as I open the box. Inside is a beautiful brown teddy bear, no longer than my forearm, it's simple in appearance yet there's something so special and remarkable about it.

"It reminded me of you," Phil turns to me again and says, "I know it seems very basic and like I probably just picked it up off the shelf at the shop at the last minute, but honestly, it's notable and really stood out…"  
"No," I exhale, "He's absolutely lovely," I grin cheekily. I reach up at him with grabby hands and he leans down to hug me, the bear in the box safely on my lap, "He's perfect, and look! He's got a little bowtie!"  
"I'm glad you like it," he chuckles,  
"Thank you…"  
"You're very welcome," he beams and pokes the dimple in my cheek as I smile back at him, "You sure are cute."  
"Shut up," I giggle,  
"Your phone went off about four times while you were sleeping,"  
"You were awake before me?"  
"I'm always awake before you," he tells me.

I pick up my phone and scroll through my messages, one from mum, one from Jamie, one from PJ, one from Chris and one from an unknown number, all wishing me a happy birthday. I quickly call Jamie to let him know I'll be home soon and then I turn my sights to Phil and laugh,  
"Apparently you can't count because it went off _five_ times, not four," I say smugly.  
"I said _about_ four times," he laughs, "Do you want food before you have to go?"  
"You're kicking me out?" I pout, "And here I was thinking that you loved me,"  
"I don't think I'll be allowed to love you anymore if I keep you here forever, your parents would take you away and lock you in a tower and I'll probably die trying to fight the dragon to get to you."  
"That is very true," I nod, "But no, I don't need food. I'll just eat nothing but birthday food all day because I enjoy making such bad health choices." Phil nods and kisses me on the cheek before pecking me on the lips with a small hum of agreement.

Phil kisses me for the millionth time, wishes me a happy birthday, tells me he loves me and to have a great day as I exit his house and begin walking down the street back home. I'm about halfway there when a voice calls out to me from across the road, the man is too far away for me to hear him and I guess he's figured that out because he's jogging across the road, stopping in front of me.  
"I'm glad I spotted you," he says, and he looks familiar, and I know that I know him but my mind just refuses to put a name to his face, but I guess my mouth just does it for me because before I can stop myself, it's moving,

"Dad…"  
"It's the eleventh of June! Happy birthday, Danny!" he smiles, "Seventeen, huh? Have you missed me?"  
"Not particularly," I answer quietly, gripping the strap of my backpack tightly with one hand and reaching into my jacket pocket and unlocking my phone, pressing around the screen in hopes that it'll dial someone, anyone, because I am genuinely scared.  
"Aw, don't be like that, come on! You've always loved your dad, you were always a daddy's boy, doing whatever it took to please your old dad, huh?"  
"Um, I just want to go home…" I say with a slight mustering of the smallest amount of courage I've ever exuded,  
"Why? To see your mother and her new victim?" he rolls his eyes, "You like your new dad better than me?"  
"I'm gonna go now," I say softly, gesturing in the general direction of my house.

"You wanna go home, Danny?" he asks sickly, but before I can answer he grabs me roughly by the arm, and it hurts. He squeezes tightly as he drags me, he's a lot stronger than I am and my attempts to struggle and fight back are useless, "I'll take you home, then."  
He throws me into the back of a powdery-blue sedan, it looks like it really needs a new coat of paint, and it's probably older than I am. He lets go of my arm to shut the door and I make another effort to escape, but despite my kicking legs and flailing arms, it's no use. The door shuts, but the child-lock function must be on because it won't open, I open my mouth and scream, shouting for anyone to help me, and he seems to change his mind about his course of action. He opens the car door again and I'm forced to clamber back, pushing myself up uncomfortably against the other back door as he climbs in after me and drags me down a little, his foot keeping the door he's leaning through open slightly so that he's not trapped in the back too.

His lips make contact with mine, and I try to push him away, but he holds me down by my hip and my shoulder. I purse my lips, tightening them that it's impossible for his tongue to access my mouth, to violate my further. This can't be happening. I don't want this to happen, I want it to stop. I can feel the tears escaping my eyes and I can feel his hand breaching the boundary of my pants, touching me… I scream out again, but his hand jumps from my shoulder to cover my mouth, and I realise that he's been talking the entire time.  
"Shhh, Daniel," he says, "You like it, remember?"  
But I don't like it! His hand moves out of my underwear, he's probably very satisfied with himself because he's managed to get me hard. His lips trail down my neck and I scream again as he sucks one, two, three bruises into my flesh, but suddenly it stops.

It all stops and he's shouting something as he gets further away from me until he's out of the car completely. There's a loud _smack_ from outside the car, followed by another accompanied by an even louder, slightly grotesque, _crack_ ing sound. And dad's on the ground. I pull my knees up against my chest, my back pushing against the other door, the handles digging into me. Then there's another, different, familiar voice.  
"Dan?" Jamie's voice enters my ears and I internally sigh a sigh a relief, "Dan, are you okay?" There's another thud from outside as Jamie's foot slams down against dad's ribs, keeping him on the ground. I don't move. I don't say a single thing.

Within ten minutes the police have arrived, but I still don't move. Jamie's outside and I can hear him talking to them, through the back window I can see dad being moved into an ambulance that I wasn't aware had even arrived until now, a female officer hand-cuffing him to the metal bar of the stretcher bed.  
"I've got all of the audio from the phone call I received, I can transfer it for you guys at the station," I hear Jamie telling the officers outside the car,  
"May I ask how you knew to record the phone call, or why you recorded it?" a male police officer asks,  
"I have the software on my phone from work, just in case there's an incident with a client," he responds,  
"And what do you do for work, Mr Liguori?"  
"I'm a social worker, I specify in youth work," he answers before the same woman that cuffed my dad to the stretcher is at the door of the car.

"Hi, Daniel," she says, "My name's Angela, your step-dad is just outside talking to my partner and I just wanted you to know that the man that attacked you today has been arrested and we're going to make sure that he never comes near you again, alright?"  
"Did he… Did he s-say anything?" I ask softly, and she nods,  
"He said that he loves you and that he's entitled to you, but that's not true. He's not entitled to you in any way, shape, or form."  
"He's my dad…" I sniffle, "He's going to come back…"  
"We're not going to let that happen, alright? You're safe now," she tells me, "Would you like to come out, your step-dad probably wants to make sure you're okay," she smiles.

I nod slightly and begin to climb out of the car, the second my feet are on the ground I adjust my pants, pulling them up completely and within seconds Jamie's arms are around me.  
"Are you alright?" he asks, "Did what did he do to you? Did he hurt you?"  
"I'm alright," I say, standing on shaky legs,  
"I'm sorry, Dan… I'm so sorry…"  
"No, it's- um, it's fine."  
"No, it's not fine, Dan," he says, holding me tighter to him, "I'm so sorry I let this happen…"  
"It's not your fault…" I tell him,  
"I know," he sighs, pulling us apart and running a hand through his brown hair, "We have to go the police station, I know it's hard, but they need statements," he tells me.  
"Yeah, I figured," I say,  
"Before we go, I need to ask you something, and it's going to be uncomfortable…" I nod and he continues, "Today, did he penetrate you in anyway, or were there any… fluids or anything like that?"

I shake my head, "No," and he nods,  
"Alright, good," he says, swallowing, he looks like he's going to cry. "We just need to head down and give the statement,"  
"What for?" I ask, and he looks at me a little shocked,  
"Dan, that was sexual assault."  
"He didn't 'penetrate' me," I say weakly, "He didn't rape me. Not this time…"  
"It's still sexual assault, and what he did to you is very, very wrong," he says sternly,  
"But…" a wave of guilt and disgust washes over me and all I want to do is die, "Jamie, I… I think I wanted it."  
"I heard everything Dan, I know you didn't. I know you said no, and I know you screamed, and I know you did everything that you could to try to get away from him," Jamie says very intently, and I want to believe it, but I can't.  
"I was… I w-was hard…"  
"That's normal, alright? It's a natural reaction that the body has and it's not your fault, and it certainly does not mean that you wanted it, do you understand me?" he looks at me for a second and I nod, but I don't believe him.

After a long and generally unpleasant morning, Jamie and I step through the threshold of the front door, immediately greeted by mum and PJ. Mum's face looks like a mixture of worry and angry, Peej looks more concerned and curious than anything else.  
"Where have you two been?!" she begins, "Daniel, you called Jamie four hours ago to say you were on your way home, and then never showed up! And you," she turns to Jamie, "We're in the middle of breakfast, you get a phone call and take off with not so much as a good bye, let alone an explanation, and you're gone for hours! Jamie, what the hell happened to your hand?! I tried calling you both at least a dozen times, PJ too! We were worried sick!" She sets her sights on me again, "PJ even called your boyfriend, he said that you'd left right when you said you would! Where the hell were you!?"

"Honey," Jamie begins, "I'm so sorry you were worried, but when Dan called there was a real emergency and-"  
"That was Dan? What happened!?"  
"Mum…" I say, "I'm really sorry…"  
"Nathan showed up," Jamie says quietly in reference to my dad, placing his hand on my shoulder, "He attacked Dan."  
Mum sits down on the couch, chewing her lip nervously and shaking her head.  
"Daniel, are you okay, baby? What happened?" she asks, she doesn't sound angry anymore,  
"Honey," Jamie takes over, noticing how uncomfortable I am and remembering our drive home when I asked him to do all the talking, "I think we need to have a conversation in private," he takes mum's hand and looks at me, "Do you wanna go upstairs for a bit?" I nod and quickly hug mum before hurrying up the stairs with PJ following closely behind.

"What happened?" PJ asks as I take a seat cross-legged on the floor of my bedroom, "Are you alright?"  
"My dad…" I swallow, "He um, he confronted me on my way home. He um, he forced me into his car," I begin to recount for the third time today, "And he… tried to…"  
"Oh my god, Dan! Are you alright!?"  
"Yeah," I breathe, "I'm um- I'm okay."  
"What happened with my dad?" he asks,  
"Jamie pulled him away from me and hit him, he broke his nose and knocked out one of his teeth," and I can't help but smile for two reasons; My dad was injured and Jamie is the least violent person on this earth, "Oh, and when my dad tried to get up, Jamie stamped on his chest and bruised his ribs. Dad's in hospital now, but he's also under arrest."  
"My dad did that?" PJ asks sceptically,  
"He did," I grin, "Your dad is the greatest person I know. We had to spend some time at the police station with statements and everything."

"Fun birthday," PJ murmurs, "I'm sorry all of this happened…"  
"It couldn't be helped," I say, "Your dad is telling mum now and I'm really scared."  
"She'll be okay," PJ smiles, "My dad really loves you too, so much, so everyone's here for you."  
"Yeah…" I sigh, "So um, how long do you think it'll be before mum comes-" And as soon as the words leave my mouth, mum is rushing into the room and throwing her arms around me, kissing my temple.  
"Baby, I am so sorry," she sobs, "I am so sorry I didn't know, I'm so sorry I didn't stop it, oh my god… Daniel, I love you so much. How could I have let this happen?"

"It's not your fault…" I whisper into her shoulder, and PJ taps me on the shoulder as he leaves us alone.  
"I should've known…"  
"No, mum. He made sure you didn't know," I tell her, "He did everything he could to make sure no one would find out, especially you."  
"Jamie told me everything you've told him, about when it started and what he did to you, and…" she chokes a little on her words and her tears as she cries. She doesn't deserve this. I wish I could have stopped it all so that she wouldn't have to know this, so that she wouldn't feel responsible, so that she could just go about life and enjoy all the good things, like being with Jamie, and being pregnant. It's not fair.


	11. Chapter 11

It's Wednesday and I haven't been to school all week. I haven't talked to Phil since yesterday, which was the first time since Saturday morning when I saw him on my birthday, I promised him I would come over and see him after school, but I'm scared. Mum and Jamie haven't made me go because I still have very visible bruises, "love bites", on my neck and the last thing I want is for anyone to see them, especially Phil. At least things are out in the open now, though. I make that sound like it's a good thing. It's really not. It's uncomfortable as hell, but I promised PJ that I'd try to 'stay positive', but it's really hard to stay positive when you weren't at all positive in the first place.

 _"Received 3:24pm – Phil: I missed you again today_ _, but I just got home, so I'll see you soon?"_

 _"Sent 3:25pm – To Phil: Yeah, I'll leave in about five minutes. Love you!"_

 _"Sent 3:25pm – To Peej: I'm leaving to go to Phil's now, I'll be gone by the time you get home."_

 _"Received 3:28pm – Peej: Alright, I haven't spoken to him about anything, so he's probably got some questions…"_

I slip on my shoes, grab my keys and lock the front door behind me before lazily walking down the street and round the corner to Phil's house. I flick my collar upwards to hide the marks on my neck that still haven't entirely faded. I was really hoping they'd be gone by now, but he did suck on the skin really hard, so I don't think I should expect them to be gone for another few days. I knock on the door and Phil answers, greeting me with a longing smile and a hug.  
"I've missed you," he sighs as his embrace tightens for a moment, "How come you haven't been at school, are you alright? PJ said that he couldn't talk about it,"  
"I've missed you too," I smile as we walk into the living room of the house, "I thought I'd almost forgotten what your hugs felt like, and honestly, I never want to be without them again," I chuckle.  
"How are you, princess?"  
"I'm alright, I um, I wasn't before, but I'm feeling a lot better now," I tell him.

"Were you sick?" he enquires, and I shake my head as he seats me on the couch. He moves to the kitchen and pours a couple of glasses of water, handing me mine from over my shoulder as he stands behind me.  
"Something happened, I don't really want to get too much into it, but I just…"  
"Dan, what's on your neck?" he asks suddenly, he must've noticed the hickeys from where he's standing. No, no, no! I drop my head and let out a sigh as he turns down my collar and looks at all three of them. "Is this why you didn't want to see me? They look more than a few days old and they weren't here when I last saw you…" he sounds hurt.  
"Yeah, but-"  
"But what? What the hell, Dan?" he demands, walking around the couch to face me now, "Who did this? Are you seeing someone else? Why would you let them do this, especially knowing that other people, including myself – your _boyfriend_ – would see them? That's not only hurtful, Dan, but it's disrespectful!"

"Phil, I didn't… I'm not…" I try, but I don't know how to explain because I can't tell him the truth, he'll hate me! He'll think I'm even more disgusting than if I had cheated on him! I'm trying to think of an answer, I'm trying and struggling to find an explanation, but there's nothing and I don't know what to do. His expression hurts me, I hate that he feels so hurt and betrayed, I hate that he thinks that I could do something like that to him, I hate that my father did this to me, I hate that I let him! I hate everything! My lip wobbles and tears brim in my eyes for a moment before streaming down my cheeks,  
"Don't cry, Dan," Phil says bluntly, his voice completely devoid of emotion, but I know he's upset, and who would blame him?

"Phil, I didn't cheat on you!" I tell him, and he looks at me, awaiting my elaboration,  
"Then explain these," he stresses, pointing to the marks on my flesh that I had hoped would have disappeared by now.  
"I- I can't, Phil… Please, just…" I choke, but he doesn't care. He's listening, but every word that he hears seems to hurt him more, I don't have an explanation. I may as well have cheated on him. This is all my own fault anyway, in fact, technically I did cheat on him. I did. I deserve this. I deserve worse than this, and Phil deserves better than me. His eyes stare me down, he looks like he's going to be sick and finally, he speaks,  
"No. I think you should leave, Daniel."

I wipe my face and nod, letting in a shuddery breath as I stand up and let myself out, leaving a teary Phil behind me. He's never going to forgive me. Why would he? If it were reversed, I'd be crushed. I quickly unlock the front door of my house, even more upset that I wasn't hit by a car or something on my walk home, my hands are shaking and I notice that no one's been home yet. I'm alone. I'm all alone, and I don't know if I love it or hate it. How could I have let this happen? Why couldn't I have tried harder to get away?! Why did I let it happen?! I obviously didn't want to get away! He was right. Dad was right, I liked it. I wanted it. I missed him. I did get hard when he touched me, I had to have wanted it. It was just as much me as it was him. This is my own fault, and now I've fucked everything up! I cheated on my boyfriend with my own father. I ruined everything good I had in my fucking pathetic excuse for a life! I hate it! I hate! I HATE IT! IT'S DISGUSTING! I'M DISGUSTING!

I scream as loudly as I can, unable to contain it all anymore, and I throw myself at the floor, heaving and hyperventilating. I'm disgusting. I'm pathetic. I hate myself. This has ruined everything! Mum was crying. She was CRYING! I made her cry! I've ruined her life! I ruined her relationship with dad, I'm the reason he left and she knows why now. She's pretending not to hate me because she's better than that, she's a good person and she doesn't want to hurt me, but she does. She hates me. How have I managed to get to this? Just a few months ago I was fine! I was back on track, everything was fucking okay! But no, I couldn't possibly let myself have a fucking simple existence, could I!? No! I had to get depressed again because I'm a miserable little fuck that can't even get up in the mornings without contemplating death! I had to be gay, because _of course_ I'm a fucking faggot; I can't even the whole dating-the-opposite-sex-in-order-to-reproduce thing right! I had to let my dad do those things to me, and I just had to get aroused. I'm fucking sick.

Now mum hates me, and she's sad, and she's worried, and Phil hates me, and soon enough PJ will hate me because I'm just annoying and depressed and leaving him in a constant state of anxiety. Jamie's probably sick of me and my problems too, and I'm not even his real son so he's under no obligation to love or care about me. I wish I died when I took those pills. I can't even fucking kill myself right! I cough a few times after choking on my own tears and I pick myself up off of the tiles of the entrance hall and I drag myself into the kitchen, flinging open the small cupboard above the fridge where mum and Jamie keep the general household medications. I pull down the box they're all kept in and rummage around, pulling out the paracetamol and ibuprofen, along with all the vitamins – they're of no use to me.

I find what I'm looking for, the prescription pain-killers, the sleeping pills that I'm not allowed to keep in my bedroom anymore, the- actually, I don't need anything else. Actually, no. I do. I grab my anti-depressants before throwing everything I don't need back into the box and replacing it back in the cupboard and heading into to the small bar by the dining room and grabbing the first bottle I see, taking it upstairs with me. I shut my bedroom door, there's no lock anymore, but it doesn't matter because I press my back up against it and slide down to the ground. I'm not hyperventilating anymore, but the tears definitely haven't stopped. I'm shaking. I grab my phone, I need to tell someone. I need help. Shakily, I unlock it, but I don't know what to do. Who do I call? Who do I text? No one cares, no one wants me, and no one will come to help me. It doesn't matter anymore.

" _Received 5:09pm – PJ: Phil just called me, are you okay? He doesn't know about your dad, okay? I told him you didn't cheat on him and he's still hurt but he wants to talk to you."_

 _"Received 5:32pm – PJ: Hello? I'm almost home, I'm assuming that's where you are?"_

I tip the pain killers pills from their bottle into the white bottle of sleeping pills, before popping my anti-depressants from their foil packaging and just staring at them in my palm. I have to do this. I have to do it. Right now. Do it, Dan! For once in your life, Daniel, just don't be so selfish! This is for them! You're doing this for them! DO IT! DO IT, NOW! Do it and it all stops. Come on! I let out a shaky breath. If I do this now then it all goes away. Everyone will be okay, everyone will be better off, they won't have to put up with me anymore. It'll be okay. I'm making things right, I'm doing the right thing. I grab the bottle I stole from the bar downstairs, looking at it for the first time. Whiskey. I take a sip and place it between my legs before swallowing my handful of tablets. That's it. I took my anti-depressants, maybe now I won't be so fucking miserable and pathetic. I can't help but laugh, and I don't know why, but it's all just so funny, isn't it?

 _"Received 5:41pm – Phil: I'm sorry… I think I maybe overreacted, I didn't give you a chance to explain anything… I'm sorry. I love you, okay? Are you alright?"_

 _"Sent 5:42pm – To Phil: I'm not alright. It's too late, I'm sorry for fucking everything up."_

 _"Missed Call 5:42pm – Phil (Phil Lester 3)."_

 _"Missed Call 5:42pm – Phil (Phil Lester 3)."_

 _"Missed Call 5:43pm – Phil (Phil Lester 3)."_

 _"Received 5:43pm – Phil: I'm coming over, don't go anywhere. What have you done? Don't you dare do anything else, Daniel, do you understand me? I love you so much."_

"Dan? Are you home?" I can hear PJ call from the front hall, "Dan?"  
I contemplate calling out to him, but if feels like there's something in my throat and suddenly I'm very nauseous. I take my fourth sip from the glass bottle, admiring the pretty patterns in the glass and the colour of the liquid. I pour several of the pills, the mixture of pain killers and sleeping pills, into my mouth and swallow them down with the alcohol. It's nice. It's nice knowing that nothing matters anymore. It's a good feeling, and I wish I had this kind of clarity the first time I tried something like this. Nothing matters. It's all irrelevant. It's pointless. The point of existence is to do that, exist – to live and then die – I've found the meaning of life, I'm fulfilling it and it feels so damn good, so I take some more.

 _"Received: 5:45pm – Peej: Are you not home? Are you back at Phil's?"_

 _"Missed Call 5:45pm – Peej (PJ Liguori)."_

 _"Received 5:47pm – Peej: I'm coming to Phil's, why aren't you guys answering your phones?"_

The front door unlocks downstairs and there are voices down stairs. The loud clomping on the stairs is quickly replaced by hurried footsteps – running – and then a banging on my door. There are words being spoken, but I can hear nothing but movement, nothing but my own breath. The door handle above me rattles, I'm still up against the door, and the second they start to push I'm moved with it. I mustn't've really thought that part through. I sort of slump a little more as they push the door open further, the world is really nice from this angle, I think. PJ's down in front of me, swearing about something and looking into my eyes, I think he's saying my name. I could have sworn there was two of him, but where's the other one?

"PJ," I slur, "PJ, where's the- where- where's the other you?"  
"The other- Ugh, Dan… What are you-" PJ answers, his expression very annoyed, but then his face changes, he looks sad and scared, "Phil's here too."  
"I really- Phil's really nice," I murmur, and PJ suddenly looks very far away,  
"Yes! Yes, he is, he's very nice!" his voice picks up, it's almost like how one would talk to a baby or a dog, "If you keep your eyes open, you can see him! How does that sound?"

My head rolls forward and there a fingers pushing it up again, but when my eyes start searching, PJ's not there. It's someone with black hair, wide, azure eyes, searching my eyes for me. For the me that he knows, because he's not here anymore. He's searching for the boy that sat with him in the disabled bathroom at school, for the boy that ran into him in the hallway, for the boy that sits on his couch and spews taunts and ridicule about how badly he plays Mario Kart. He's looking for the boy that kisses him mid-sentence, for the boy that cuddles up to him and whines when he's not enveloped in a hug, for the boy that cried within the first ten minutes when the two of them watched UP together. That's the boy he wants, not the dizzy mess on the floor in front of him. I blink a few times and my vision clears for a moment,

"Phil?" I breathe, and he's nodding, he's blinking back tears,  
"Hey, kitten," he sighs, "Did you drink all of this?" he asks, holding up the empty bottle, and I shake my head, "There's an empty box and an empty bottle of pills here, did you take all these?"  
"N-no," I stammer, uncoordinatedly pulling the other bottle with a the majority of the white, chalky tablets inside from behind me. I don't really know how it got there, but it's been poking into the back of my hip since the door pushed me over here, "I-I mixed them together and took some."  
"Okay," he says, "How're you feeling? The ambulance is coming, alright?"  
"Why?"  
"Sweetie, if you fall asleep, you probably won't wake up. I want you to wake up," he says, "I want you to be okay. I love you, Dan…" He's lying to me. He feels obligated to help me, it's the human thing to do. He doesn't really love me, he's just trying to make to fight to stay conscious.

"No…" I complain, "I want to die."  
"Daniel, you will stop that right now or god help me…" I hear PJ mutter loudly from somewhere just out of my sight and then Phil becomes dull and blurry.  
"Dan, baby, I really do love you, okay? Please don't leave me… Please…" Phil's crying, he's shaking. Everything becoming cloudier, darker, reality is become as dismal as the inside of my mind and I don't stop it. All I can focus on is the blurry Phil in front of me, he's hyperventilating, he's panicking and I can't help him! I can't do anything! I'm sorry, Phil! I'm sorry! My eyelids flutter and droop against my will, and I can feel PJ's hands on my shoulders. My head's moving back and forth as someone shakes me, I faintly hear my name, and a strange, very, very, distant siren. Words become sound, sounds become waves of energy that are just out of my reach, and the numbing murkiness washes over me, encompassing my entire being in darkness. Then nothing.

 _Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep._  
"You're Daniel's mother?" a woman's voice asks, it's sweet and calming,  
"Yes, yes, I'm his mum," mum's distraught voice answers. She sounds like she's been crying, where am I? What happened?  
"Alright, Mrs Howell-"  
"It's Mrs Liguori," mum interjects quickly, but politely,  
"Sorry, Mrs Liguori," the woman corrects herself, "Like the doctor would have told you last night, he should be awake soon. According to the doctor's notes, he should wake up at some point this morning, and if he doesn't, Dr Reynolds will investigate further. I'm sorry I can't be more help,"  
"Okay… Alright, thank you," mum sighs. I want to call out to her, but I can't. I want to move, but nothing's working.

Two sets of footsteps exit the room and I know that I'm alone. All I can hear now is the beeping of a machine, footsteps in what I'm assuming is a hallway or something not too far away, and light chatter in the distance. I know exactly where I am. I've been here before. The hospital. Wait. No. No, no, no! This means I'm alive… This means that I've-  
"He's in here," another voice speaks, interrupting my thoughts. I'm not sure how long it's been exactly since mum and, whom I'm assuming was, a nurse were in here. "He hasn't woken up yet…" It's PJ! It's PJ's voice! Oh no… I've done it again. I've fucking traumatised him.  
"Is he going to be okay?" another male voice asks, and it takes me a second, but realise who it is. It's Phil. It's Phil! He's here to see me! Wait, what if he hates me? Fucking hell, I'm so sorry for everything…"

"The doctor says he should be alright once he wakes up. I'm gonna be out by the vending machines in the waiting room with mum, see you in a bit?" PJ says,  
"Yeah, thanks…" Phil sighs.  
"Come get me if you need me," PJ says and the click of the door sounds throughout the room. I hear the squeak of leather and I assume that means he's taken a seat on one of those ugly blue or mustard-yellow chairs that are usually by hospital beds. Speaking of ugly, I probably look terrible right now. Blood hell. Phil takes a deep breath and I feel him take my hand. I wish I could hug him and tell him how sorry I am, beg him to forgive me, anything! If I could just fucking wake up properly! This must be what it's like for coma patients. Oh no. Am I in a coma? What if I never wake up? I'll never be able to tell them I love them again… None of them. Not mum, not Phil, not PJ, not Jamie… I'll never meet the baby!

"Dan, I am so fucking angry at you," Phil says suddenly, his voice low and wispy. "Not the bad kind of angry though. I'm the kind of angry where I just want to cry, and scream. It's scary, you know? Watching your boyfriend just slip away entirely. You were completely unresponsive, you were just slumped there. I love you so much and you were just… you weren't there anymore. The second you told me you wanted to die, my heart broke into a million pieces and I knew that you were gone. You weren't there anymore, Dan…" he squeaks, "I thought I would never get to hold your hand, or kiss your face, or hold you again, and I just- I broke. You were dying and I was having an anxiety attack," he chuckles a little, "If PJ wasn't there, I don't know what would have happened. It's a miracle that I ran into him on the way over because if I was by myself I would have just died. Wait, no. Not died. I don't mean that. Damn it… Sorry, I didn't mean it like that, I meant like- God damn it…"

He's entirely adorable and I can't help but laugh at him. Wait. I laughed! Sort of, I let out one of those breaths that's like a laugh, but still, I did something!  
"Dan?" Phil says, "Dan, are you aliv- I mean, awake? Don't fuck with me, Daniel." I focus all my energy into moving a finger, a single finger, any part of my hand, and after a minute or so of nothing, it works. I tighten a finger around his pinkie and he gasps, "You can hear me…" he whispers, and I can tell he's doing his gorgeous smile, "Okay, here's some incentive to wake up," he says, "I spoke to your parents and they're not angry with you, I know you're probably worried about that, trust me, I worry about everything and I know that's what would worry me. PJ's okay. He's not freaked out, he's just worried about you. They all still love you. I love you also, I'm, needless to say, worried, but I love you. Oh, and yesterday was the first time I saw your room since you put up my colourings… I didn't think you would, but I'm glad you did."

I concentrate, mustering everything I have in me to speak his name or open my eyes. First though, I manage the latter. I'm greeted with a lot of white. White blankets on me, white walls with a grey-blue rail-stripe thing along all the walls, a white sink in the corner with a pink soap and clear hand sanitiser mounted on the wall, and bright white lights on the ceiling. I scan the room until I see Phil sitting next to me, his hand in mine and facing out the window. Now that my eyes are open it's easy to keep them as such and slowly my limbs follow suit and I'm able to wiggle my toes and rotate the shoulder on the other side to Phil.  
"It's weird how you're not even awake and they put you in a room with a nice view of the park across the street, the ducks are all in the lake thing and I think a little boy just fell over," he chuckles, "Aw, he's crying! Don't cry little child, look at the ducks! They'll cheer you up!"

"I think I have a better view," I croak with a grin, and he flashes around with a happy, surprised look on his face.  
"You're awake! You're awake! How are you feeling? Oh my god, Dan, I love you so much," he gushes, wrapping his arms around me and kissing my cheek and then my lips, catching me completely by surprise,  
"I heard you before," I say quietly, "I'm so sorry, Phil…"  
"I know," he whispers, squeezing me tightly, "I know you are, no one's mad at you, okay? We understand, we know you're going through a lot, we're just terrified that we're going to lose you. We just want you to be okay…"  
"I love you."  
"I know, darling," he kisses my forehead, "I love you too. Does your stomach hurt?"  
"Yeah, how'd you know?" I ask,  
"They pumped your stomach," he shrugs, "I've heard it's not entirely pleasant afterward."

"Phil?" I murmur, "I'm scared… What's going to happen now?"  
"Your d- Jamie told me about what happened last time and that you're probably going to have to stay in longer this time because it's more than just a one-off thing or something…"  
"Am I officially a crazy person, then?"  
"Yes," he nods, his mouth a flat line, "You're getting the certificate tomorrow. The queen's coming to present it, it's a real honour."  
"Oh, good," I chuckle,  
"Dan… what happened?"  
"Well, I tried to kill myself with anti-depressants. They didn't kill me, but the irony might," I laugh. Phil shakes his head with a breathy snicker before looking at me seriously,  
"What I _meant_ was," he sighs with a smile, obviously trying to keep things light, "What was going on up here?" he asks, kissing my temple.

"Everything," I breathe, "All the things I've told you about before, all my worries, everything, Phil, and more."  
"Like what, sweet pea?"  
"My dad…" I exhale, preparing myself for his reaction when I tell him the truth. He's probably going to get up and leave, never to talk to me again.  
"Love, you've told me about him before," he says and I shake my head,  
"Phil, I didn't cheat on you, not really…"  
"Baby, I know… I'm sorry I thought that you did, and I'm sorry I reacted like that, but I love you and I trust you, and I know that you wouldn't do that… I'm so sorry that I triggered all of this…" he says, holding my hand to his chest, and I smile as I feel the beating of his heat.

"No, Phil, it wasn't you, at all. I swear!" I assure him, "The marks on my neck…"  
"Don't worry, Dan, I know you-" Phil tries, but I interrupt him,  
"Phil, they're from my dad."  
"…What?"  
"I didn't call you, see you, or go to school because on my way home from your house on Saturday, m-my dad approached me. He talked to me and I told him I wanted to leave and just go home," my eyes begin to water and Phil's face is soft yet intense as the tears start to fall, "But he grabbed me and forced me into his car… I don't know where he was going to take me or-" I squeeze Phil's hand and look into his eyes for a second before looking away, "But he- he attacked me in the car and… did these," I say, gesturing to the marks, "Among other things…"

"Daniel… Oh my god…" Phil says, shocked and struggling to put together a sentence, "Why would he- I just… I don't- I don't understand…"  
"When I was little, my dad used to make excuses to my mum as to why he had to come into my room at night. He used to touch me…. Make me touch him, make me do things to him… and then- and then he- he started… having sex with me."  
"Dan…" Phil whispers, taken aback and totally speechless, he thinks I'm filthy, revolting even.  
"I know, I'm disgusting, I'm sorry for wasting your time," I apologise,  
"What? No! Dan," he takes my hand in both of his, "What he did to you is not your fault, do you understand me? You were a little kid, what he did to you is wrong, and he, and what he did to you, are disgusting, but you… you're not, Dan. It wasn't you."

"You don't understand, Phil…" I sob, quickly wiping the tears from my cheek, but it's useless because their immediately replaced by a new stream of tears, "When he attacked me last week… I was- I got hard…"  
"That doesn't fucking matter," Phil barks, "That doesn't mean you want it any more so than I want to sneeze when I happen to breathe in dust or something. It's just a reaction that you had no control over, there's nothing wrong with you, baby. I love you, and I'm so sorry that you had to go through all of that… I'm so, so, sorry… After he attacked you on Saturday, what happened to him, where is he now?"  
"Jamie broke his nose, knocked out one of his teeth and bruised his ribs," I smile, "It shouldn't make me happy, but it really does," I chuckle, "He was brought into hospital and then on Monday they locked him up. He can't afford bail or anything, so until trial he's in gaol or something, I guess."

"Okay, good. You're safe then," he sighs, "Is this why you didn't want to go too far into anything, like, whenever we were getting heated or anything, because of what he did to you?"  
"Yeah…"  
"I need you to know that we're never going to do anything that you don't want to. Ever. You never have to do anything you don't want to, with me or anyone else, alright? You tell me to stop and I will always stop. If we wait three months before we go any further than what we have, that's fine. If we wait three years, that's just as fine. If you want to take a step or two back from what we've already done, we can do that too, there is no problem, do you understand?" he says purposefully, and I nod, beaming, because I can't help but see almost every single thing about him that made me fall in love with him in the first place.

"I brought you a colouring book," he says after a few empty moments, "I've done the first page and the last page, the two centre pages, the rest can keep you busy while you're in here," he says, handing me his pencil case with a book and colour pencils inside, and now I can see everything I've ever loved about him. He's quirky, and he's sweet, and he makes me feel safe.  
"Thank you," I murmur with a smile on my face, I reach up at him making grabby hands and he wraps me in a hug. I kiss his cheek and turn his face to hover right in front of mine before I kiss him fervently, feeling ever nerve in my body burn with lust, and love, and passion, and trust. We break away and just stare into each other for a moment, searching each other's eyes for everything we've ever known about one another.  
"Hi," he whispers, capturing my lips in a quick kiss before returning to look into my eyes, "You're definitely in there today, and I've never been more thankful."


	12. Chapter 12

"And do you feel like you're going to be safe at home, Daniel?" Dr Reynolds asks, sitting next to the hospital psychologist, Wendy.  
"Yeah," I nod,  
"That's great, Daniel," Wendy smiles, "And your parents have your medication and have signed all your forms?"  
"Yep,"  
"We've kept you in here for six days now," Dr Reynolds chimes in again, "And I know that's a long time and you want to go home, but honestly, do you feel like there's the chance that you may hurt yourself or anyone else?"  
"No," I say firmly. I'm not going to. I know I'm not going to. Yes, of course there's that fear that it may happen again, but things like what's happened have never been planned, they've just… happened, which is precisely why everyone is going to be looking at me and more behaviour more closely. At least the situation makes sense to everyone now. They understand what I'm struggling with now that everything's out in the open, which I don't really like because I'm genuinely worried that whenever mum, or Jamie, or PJ, or Phil, look at me… they won't see me. They'll see a victim. I don't want that, but I also don't want them to have no idea what's going on, so I guess them knowing isn't entirely awful.

"Do you feel like you might do something like this again?" he asks,  
"No, and I don't want to, either. I really don't,"  
"Alright," the greying man smiles, closing his folder of notes and standing from his chair, indicating for Wendy and I to do the same, "I wish you the best, and remember if you have any problems, we're always here."  
"This is a list of the emergency numbers, the hotlines, the websites, and the twenty-four hour services available if you need them, alright? If you're scared that you're about to do something, you contact one of these services or triple nine," Wendy says, handing me a sheet of colourful paper, "It was nice meeting you, not under these circumstances obviously," she laughs, and I smile as we exit the room and I spot Jamie waiting behind the staff-access doors. Wendy swipes her card and the doors open with a loud _beep._ I'm free to go.

Wendy was so nice when we first met. She came into my hospital room and explained where I would be moved to and what was going to happen. The hospital moved me into a psych ward, one of the smaller ones connected to the hospital for people like me. One of the nurses said that it tends not to be helpful for some people to be facilitated with longer-term patients with more severe mental health problems, and I guess I can understand that. I had to sign some papers to say that I was voluntary, because apparently if you're involuntary you have less privileges and it's on your record or something, I don't know, I wasn't really listening. It was strange though, constantly being checked on, not being allowed to have sharp objects, people secretly smoking, watching when another patient just kind of broke down or something… I'm not going to lie, I was that patient at least twice. It wasn't a bad experience though, it's where I needed to be, even if it meant I wasn't allowed to have a phone or internet access.

Mum, Jamie, PJ, Phil, and Chris all came to visit while I was in here too. A few people didn't get any visitors, so I felt a bit bad about having multiple people come in each day, but I know that if no one came I would probably just die for real.  
"Ready to go, kiddo?" Jamie asks with a smile, placing his hand on my back as we start walking through the corridors,  
"Um, yes," I laugh, "It was weird."  
"What was the weirdest thing in there? And don't say the big plastic box around the TV, because you've already complained about that one," he chuckles.  
"The lack of shower curtains," I say, "Apparently there are people smart enough to figure out how to hang themselves with them,"

"Considering that you managed to figure out that that's why they don't have them, I'd assume that's reason enough, I guess," Jamie says with a tilt of his head, waving at someone he probably knows from work as we pass by.  
"Yeah," I hum, "I'm sorry for everything…"  
"Don't be," he says, "None of this is your fault. You're trying your best, and even if you aren't trying your best, the fact that you're not trying your best is also not your fault." Strangely enough that earns him a smile, it makes me feel a little better. I don't know how I would cope if I didn't have Jamie, or if I had a family that blamed me for being depressed and overwhelmed, or for trying to commit suicide… I'm not sure what it is though, but I really do feel like I didn't mean it, almost like it was an accident. I don't know. It's weird, but I guess that's mental illness for you, right?

By the time we pull up into the drive way at home, Jamie's finished filling me in on and explaining all about the new furniture and toys that he and mum want to buy for the baby. While I was gone they started moving things out of the study and finding new homes for things, apparently PJ even conned Phil into housing two of our old bookcases, basically, Jamie is so excited that it's comical. Jamie unlocks the front door and I'm welcomed into my home and into mum's open arms as she wraps me in a hug and runs her fingers through my hair.  
"I'm so happy you're home," she fusses, playing with the collar of my jacket, "Are you sure you're okay?"  
"I'm sure," I confirm, and she nods with an eager smile,  
"PJ's upstairs," she tells me, patting me on the back before I take my bag full of the belongings I had at the hospital upstairs.

"Phil, are you sure you're feeling okay?" I hear PJ's voice in his bedroom, apparently talking to Phil on the phone or something,  
"Yeah… it's just anxiety," Phil's voice returns. Phil must actually be in there with him! I stand by the outside of the door, back pressed against the wall and listening to what's going on inside,  
"About what?" Obviously it's about me. Obviously I've been too wrapped up in myself since the second I met him to even notice that he had any anxiety in the first place. He cared about me, looked out for me, always asked me how I was feeling and I just… I did not of that for him. I never asked him if he was anxious about anything, I never noticed if he might be worrying, not beyond anything normal at least. I know that he downplays it and acts like it's not a big deal, but it is. He pretends that it's all fine for _me._ But it's not. It is not fine. He's a person too, with thoughts, feelings, and an actual psychological disability that he takes medication for. Undoubtedly it's much more of a bigger deal than he lets on… I'm just not the person he can, or will, talk to about it. He should be able to talk to me… I'm just so goddamn, fucking selfish.

"I don't know, Dan, maybe? It started at school, it's been getting worse all day… I just want him to be okay, and I'm worried about so many things…" Phil's shaky voice breathes, "I love him, and I'm so scared that he's going to come to his senses and not love me anymore… and just, so many things…"  
"He's not going to stop loving you," PJ tells him, "I've never seen Dan as happy as he is with you, I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. He's always gushing about how much he loves you, how incredible you are, and-"  
"Thanks," Phil chuckles, cutting him off. It was probably because he was starting to blush, he had a particular little chuckle that he did when he was trying not to blush. "I just want to see him at home again where he's comfortable and says stupid things, and where I'm allowed to kiss him, and hug him, and love him. I've been getting so anxious so much, I've been having anxiety attacks again and I haven't had them in over a year, not since I went on my medication."

Phil's on medication too? Phil's been anxious and having anxiety attacks because of me? I need to hug him, I need to cuddle up with him and tell him that everything's going to be alright. I need to feel his breath by my face, I need to feel the way his lips ghost over mine before he kisses me, I need to hold him and make everything okay again. I walk past the door, knowing full well that the two of them can see me, and into my own room, tossing the bag of clothes, my two bears and anything else I had with me at the hospital. Within thirty seconds Phil's arms are around my waist, hugging me from behind me. I spin around and look into his watery eyes, he really does look shaken; I've only ever seen him like this once before, when he was trying to keep my awake when I overdosed. I stretch up to kiss his cheek and then capture his lips in a proper kiss, his tongue tracing my lips and my teeth pulling on his bottom lip before he rests his forehead against mine, just looking into my shiny, brown eyes as I stare into his blue ones.

"Philip, I love you," I murmur, and his lips twitch up into the smile I've been dying to see.  
"I love you too, so, so much, baby bear," he purrs, "It's so nice to hold you," he laughs gently, "I've missed this…"  
"Can you stay over tonight?" I whine into his ear, and I hear PJ chuckle from behind us,  
"He's stayed here all week," Peej says,  
"What? How come nobody told me?" I ask, and Phil separates us and grabs my hands,  
"I didn't want you to worry about me, and if you knew that I was freaking out enough to not be at home, you'd feel bad…" Phil whispers, "Though, if I'm being honest, your bed is nowhere near as comfortable when you're not in it," he chuckles, and I attach our lips once more,  
"You guys are gross," PJ rolls his eyes with a smile, but the second Phil and I pull apart, he fills the gap where Phil was, hugging me quickly before exiting the room, leaving my currently very clingy boyfriend and I alone.

I tug his hand and lead him into my bed, cuddling up to him quickly, realising just how much I've needed this, just how much I've needed him… And I'm sorry, more so than ever, for what I put him through. I suck in a deep breath of air and exhale deeply as Phil runs his fingers through my hair and I draw little circles on his arm which quickly become small triangles and wonky squares.  
"I'm surprised your family doesn't want to spend time with you now that you're back," he whispers, caressing my cheek,  
"They visited me every day after work and school," I chuckle, "I think they saw more of me while I was in hospital than when I'm at home."  
"I'm sorry I didn't come with them every day…" he says, diverting his gaze, "I just… I couldn't… My anxiety was just too bad and I probably would have been admitted myself," he laughs.  
"We could have been mental patients together," I giggle, "But no, I understand."

"Hey, can I sit with you guys?" Chris asks, pushing his light brown hair from his eyes. Despite having seen each other and been friendly since his first apology, we haven't really spoken since I got out of hospital, and now it's my first day back at school. He looks nervous and ashamed, everyone's eyes flick to me and Phil's smile sets me sure of what to say,  
"Yeah," I smile at him and scoot over so that he can fit on the seat with Phil and I while Peej and Jessica sit on the opposite side of the table.  
"Again," he starts, "I'm sorry," he says, chewing his lip,  
"You're forgiven," I chuckle,  
"Thanks," he ducks his head for a moment before looking up again.  
"So, uh…" Jessica begins, "Dan, I heard what happened…"  
"Yeah," I breathe,

"He decided to come back to school this week despite having permission to stay home for a little while, and that's how we know he's certifiably crazy," PJ jokes, and I laugh.  
"I think the fact that I landed myself in what's politically incorrectly referred to as a mental hospital," I muse, and Jessica's eyes continue to widen,  
"Calm down, Jess," Phil chimes in with his usual calming voice in conjunction with a smile, "It was just a ward attached to the hospital and it was pretty, and clean, and bright, and not at all as creepy as old movies make them seem,"  
"I'm okay, I really am," I assure Jessica and she shoots me a smile. I think she's finally convinced,  
"I would've visited, but Peej was only at school on days of rehearsal and wouldn't tell me much, and Phil was pretty much out too, and Chris-"  
"And Chris was a complete jerk that you were unsure about talking to about it," Chris finishes her sentence and she twitches up the corner of her mouth with a nod.

"It's alright," I tell her, "Honestly, I had mum and dad, Chris, Peej, and Phil. Trust me, just because Phil makes it sound nice, doesn't mean it's a place you want to be, even if it is just visiting, so it's probably best for your own sake that you didn't know about it,"  
"Did Dan tell you about the shower curtains yet?" PJ asks her, "Because so far it's his favourite thing to complain about," he laughs.  
"No! What happened with the shower curtains?!" Jessica chuckles,  
"There were none!" I exclaim, "I felt so exposed!"  
"You were alone in a locked bathroom," Chris laughs, "How could you have possibly have felt exposed?"  
"It was just wrong, okay?" I giggle, and Phil's arm encircles my waist,  
"So, you'd rather complain about a literally none existent issue than about how they took your phone and the only outside contact you had was these twits and your parents?" Jessica laughs, showing off her pretty grin,  
"Um, yes… because thinking about my lack of internet still hurts."

I do not like Mrs Williams. I dislike her with a passion. I wouldn't go as far as to say I hate her, but I don't like her one bit. She's the schools infamous floating substitute teacher, basically, if any teacher is absent or unable to teach a lesson she's the first person called. She's usually here every day, supervising something or taking over a lesson or two, so I'm sure the teachers would like her, but not the students. She's been teaching Ms Winder's class for about a month now since she went on maternity leave. Ms Winder's was an excellent teacher, so in comparison, she's honestly pretty shit,  
"Daniel, can you come to the front please?" she calls me from the teachers desk at the front of the history classroom. I hesitate for a moment, I'm not entirely prepared for a conversation with her, not now, not today. I've already had to speak with several teachers today about my "special situation", ensuring that I'm never alone at school and blah, blah, blah – Mrs Williams was not there. I awkwardly make my way to the front, all eyes on me, and stand by the desk.

"Yes, miss?" I address her, and she gestures for me to sit in the chair by the desk,  
"Correct me if I'm wrong, but the record says that you haven't been in class for over a week now?" she queries and looks at me expectantly.  
"Yeah, I've… sick," I say, quickly thinking of a viable excuse,  
"Is that so?" she asks, and I shrug my shoulders with a nod. What else am I supposed to tell her on the spot like this? "And what was the matter, Mr Howell, which was so serious that you couldn't attend my class for over a week?"  
"I don't really want to talk about it…" I murmur,  
"That's not answering my question, Daniel," she says sternly. I'm starting to feel rather anxious and uncomfortable. Why won't she just leave me alone?

"I was in hospital…" I mumble, and she looks at me, clearly unimpressed.  
"You look perfectly healthy to me, what was the matter?" she demands, looking cross.  
"Looks can be deceiving," I say under my breath,  
"Excuse me, Daniel?" she requests angrily, "And don't mumble, and don't you dare give me another smart answer."  
"Fine!" I say standing up to exit the classroom, drawing the attention of the entire class, "I wasn't here because I was in a fucking mental hospital!" I spit, tears in my eyes, "Because I tried to kill myself!" I storm from the room, probably leaving a shocked classroom and hopefully guilty as fuck teacher behind as I power-walk through the hallways with tears streaming from my eyes. Where the fuck do I go? What am I doing? Where am I going? I have one more period after this one, Phil and Chris are both in English with me and will definitely notice my absence.

I find my locker through the blurred haze of tears and shove my book in there before slamming it shut and continuing straight outside, past the picnic table under the tree that we sit at during lunch, and out the school gate with absolutely no regard of the security man calling out to me and quickly grabbing his walkie-talkie to notify someone that cares. I hurry down the street, rubbing my eyes and dabbing my cheeks with the edge of my sleeves, trekking straight home. I unlock the front door and head to the kitchen, opening the fridge and staring inside it. Suddenly I feel ill. Nothing is appealing, I don't want anything. I just grab a bottle of water and drag myself up the stairs, biting my lip to hold off the sobbing. All I wanted was for things to go back to normal! Why didn't I just stay in my bed? That's it, I'm not going again. If the definition of insane is repeating the same action over and over again and expecting a different result, then I'm going to prove I'm not insane by not going to school again. What's the point?

The moment I've gotten myself undressed, wrapped myself up in my duvet and snuggled down into my bed, my phone starts ringing. Consistently. Whoever it is just won't let up, but I don't care, not now. I just grab my blanket and pull it up higher, absentmindedly snapping the rubber band around my wrist against my skin, a habit that I'd thought I'd dropped after telling Peej and noticing him constantly watching me and eventually resorting to taking them off me whenever he noticed me playing with them. Eventually the tears stop and I'm left feeling sick and generally off. I close my eyes and ultimately cease all movement, falling asleep to vibrations of my phone and the sound of my own slow, deep breathing.  
"DAN?! DAN, ARE YOU HERE!?" PJ's voice wakes me up, followed closely by the sound of two pairs of feet galumphing up the stairs at a quick pace. My door is flung open and I sit up with tired, red, puffy eyes looking up at them, at Phil and PJ.

"Huh?" I wonder aloud, rubbing my eyes, blinking a few times and  
"Baby doll, are you alright?" Phil asks after taking a single look at me and hurrying over to envelop me in a hug, "What happened? Baby, talk to me," he gushes, squeezing me tightly.  
"I, um… no. I don't want to talk about it…" my muffled voice answers him,  
"Dan, are you okay?" PJ asks, "Sarah came up to me after school and told me what happened, and, well, you know Sarah, her version of events was more of a gossip thing than helpful, reliable information."  
"I'm not going back," I murmur,  
"It's okay, angel," Phil whispers, brushing his lips against my cheek, "Just take some time and you can think about it all when you feel better, yeah?"  
"Yeah…" I breathe, and Phil and PJ exchange a look,  
"Can we join you in there?" Phil smiles, and I let out a short, breathy laugh and nod before the two of them join me, one on either side of me in the double bed, squishing us together a little.

"You really need to stop disappearing from school and not answering your phone," PJ sighs as he pulls the corner of the duvet over us a little more,  
"I'm sorry…"  
"After what happened with Mrs Williams, she freaked out and went to the deputies and no one could find you, and then Dan the security man called in and told them some student had just walked out and they freaked out and pulled me out of class," he continues, "They called mum…"  
"Should we maybe tell your mum I'm okay and get her to call the school? What time is it anyway?" Phil asks,  
"I texted mum," he says, "It's about quarter past two,"  
"So you guys left school early because of me…?" I ask, and Phil nods,  
"Peej came and got me before coming home, he figured I might be useful," he tells me.  
"I'm sorry…" I say, and I mean it.

Mum shuffles about in the kitchen, putting a variety of strange foods on top of each other to form a sandwich. I take the last bite of my own sandwich and watch as she wanders into the dining room and sits across from me,  
"Was it good?" she asks, and I nod. I haven't really spoken to anyone at home for a couple of days, mostly out of embarrassment for ruining everything on Monday… I haven't been back to school either, "Sweetie, Phil came over before school to walk with PJ," she says, "He asked me to tell you to call him when you're feeling up to it. We're all a little worried, you haven't spoken to anyone since Monday afternoon. It's Thursday, Dan, and I know you're going through a lot, but… I miss your smartass comments, and the baby misses your voice." She smiles and I smile back with a quiet, breathy laugh. "Can I tell you a secret?" she leans over the table and I nod a little, "Jamie and PJ don't know yet, so you can't tell them!" she laughs, and I nod again.

"Well," she continues, "I wasn't sure if I wanted to know, but I then I decided that I'm way too impatient to wait until late November, so I spoke to my doctor on Tuesday when Jamie went to get the car after my appointment, and… You're going to have a brother! Another one, I guess," she adds with a chuckle.  
"Really?!" I exclaim, and her entire face lights up even more,  
"Yes, really!" she squeals with a bright grin, "I know I said no more boys, but I'm going to have another little boy and I'm so excited! He's healthy and he's going to be all handsome just like all my other men," she beams.  
"So Jamie and your other four boyfriends?" I joke,  
"Daniel!" she laughs, "I guess I asked for that, I did say that I missed your stupid smartass comments,"  
"They weren't stupid when you missed them," I tease,  
"Be quiet, you. I meant you, PJ and Jamie!" She says with a giggle, "Do you think he'll have blue, or green eyes?"

"Why not brown eyes?" I pout,  
"Because Jamie's eyes are green, my eyes are blue, and none of our immediate relatives have brown eyes except you," she says, "And your brown eyes come from your-" she stops herself.  
"My dad?" I finish, and she nods,  
"Sorry…"  
"It's alright," I shrug with a shy smile, "Is it hard? Like, looking at me and seeing his eyes, and his nose, and his features?" I ask quietly, and she shakes her head.  
"No, sweetie," she smiles, "When I look at you I only see you, your eyes have a different soul behind them, they're the same colour as your father's, but they're definitely not the same, sweetheart. You are very different from your father, and I've known that for a very, very long time. You care about people, you love people, and you are a better person than he is. You're a better person than the person I thought he was too" she tells me, "And I am very, very proud of you."

"I love you, mum," I whisper, and she smiles,  
"I love you too, my baby,"  
"Mum… what about Jamie? Do you think that it's hard seeing bits and pieces of his first wife in PJ? I mean…"  
"His does miss her," mum says, "He still loves her, and I'm glad that he does. I went to high school with Rachel, we weren't friends but we had a few classes together over the years and she was a nice girl, very smart and very talented. I can fully understand why Jamie fell in love with her, and I'm sure it must be at least a little harder than he lets on, but he believes that everything happens for a reason. He knows that she would have wanted him to be happy and for he and PJ to have some sort of a family and happy lives, which they both have now, just like we do."  
"Is it really that happy with me around, though?" I sigh, and mum looks at me sadly,  
"They love you, Dan. You're going through a rough patch right now, but you have most definitely contributed to making us, as a group of people, a family. Just because things are difficult now does not diminish the fact that we all love you and that you make us all happy."  
"I guess…"

"Dan, if it wasn't for you, PJ wouldn't call me mum. Remember when you were younger and your school wanted everyone to do Mother's day craft?"  
"Yeah?" I answer in a small voice,  
"Jamie and I had just gotten engaged and that whole situation was very, very difficult for him. It was a strange transition and he didn't know what to do. He'd never had a mum before, was I his mum? Was I not his mum? Was I going to be his mum, but wasn't yet? He didn't know, Dan, but you told him that he could share your mum and solidified for him the idea that we were going to be a family. Looking back it might look like a little thing, but that started a roll of other little, yet very, very, important things for us as a family. We have all contributed greatly to becoming the family we are, including you," mum says. She's right. She's so right! I get up and walk around the table to hug her and she kisses my cheek,  
"You're right," I tell her, "Now eat your gross sandwich," I joke, "I love you."

The second PJ walks in the door from school I practically tackle him, wrapping my arms around him and taking a moment to steady us so that we don't fall over,  
"Peej," I grin,  
"Hey," he says, "I take it you feel a little better?"  
"Yeah," I smile at him, letting him put his stuff down and kick his shoes off,  
"Okay," he says, "You may proceed," and I wrap my arms around him again, reflecting off of everything mum had said earlier and off of all the little things that brought us to where we are now, and I grip him tighter as silent tears escape my eyes until I'm forced to take in a shaky breath.  
"I thought you were feeling better?"  
"I do, I swear," I laugh it off, "I just- I'm really glad you're here."  
"I had to come home from school eventually," he chuckles, still obviously confused,  
"You know that's not what I meant," I say, "I need to go, I'll see you later, okay?"  
"Um, okay…" he replies, heading up the stairs as I shoot out the front door.

After running to Phil's house I'm sweating and I'm gross, but I don't care, I knock on the door anyway. All that physical activity is not going to waste, it will not be for nothing!  
"Dan?" Phil asks with a smile when he opens the front door, "Are you okay, you look, um… have you been running?"  
"Yeah," I puff, "I ran here."  
"Why?" he chuckles, motioning for me to come inside,  
"Because I love you and I'm sorry for everything, and you're really intelligent and cheeky and fun, and I know I've been really self-centred lately, but I'm so thankful for having met you because you are so amazing, Phil Lester. I'm sorry that you've been anxious because of me, and I'm sorry that people at school, including myself, have been so horrible to you, and I'm sorry that you have to be away from your family, but… everything else to do with you, I'm so grateful for."

"Dan, you don't need to apologise," he pulls me in for a hug, "I love you too, and none of this is your fault, okay? Except maybe the part about how you were a jerk to me for the first couple of days at school," he chuckles, "But I knew you were dealing with some kind of mental health stuff from the second time we sat and talked in that disabled bathroom. I asked PJ about you, and he didn't say anything specifically but with our encounters and the slight inclination that PJ gave me, it was enough to put two and two together… So I knew and I still chose to involve myself with you because you just appealed to me so much, and you're really fucking hot, Dan, so it's my own fault anyway. Basically, you're adorable, you're a terrific person and you're worth all of my time and energy."  
"Did you just say 'terrific'? Are you a primary school teacher stamping my homework?" I laugh, and he kisses me briefly,  
"See? There we are! My usual Dan, ruining the moment," he grins, "I wouldn't have it any other way."


	13. Chapter 13

It's Friday morning and my alarm is going off. I blink a few times, waking up properly, before contemplating the murder of whoever invented the alarm. I grab my phone and turn off the godforsaken noise, checking the time and sliding from my bed. I'm going back to school today. I'm not better and I don't know when, or if, I will be, but today I'm going to start getting things together again. This was just a relapse, and I understand that that happens sometimes and it's a not fault in myself, Jamie has assured me of this, so I know that today is going to be okay. I quickly straighten my hair, which turns out to not really be quickly at all because I'm a complete moron that slept with wet hair, but that's just a minor setback. Not a problem. I pull my shirt on over my now-perfect hair, and pull my jeans up over my legs and wander downstairs to eat breakfast with mum, Jamie, and Peej. I'm scared.

Mum's really happy that I'm going to school and feeling good today, and she can't stop smiling as she tells Jamie and PJ about the sex of the baby. The second the sentence exits her mouth, Jamie is beaming right along with her, and PJ is laughing because mum once swore that she wouldn't let another boy into the house because she's already outnumbered.  
"When are your appointments with the sex-changing witch doctors?" PJ jokes, and mum tells him that she's changed her mind and loves him just the way he is, even with his penis.  
"Are you really discussing genitals at the breakfast table?" Jamie asks, standing up and transporting mum's and his own cereal bowl to the kitchen sink,  
"What else would we talk about?" mum chimes with cheeky grin, and he smiles, kissing her quickly before saying goodbye and heading out the front door to work. Within a few minutes PJ and I do the same and are on our way to school. I'm scared.

We enter the school gates and see Phil talking to Chris while Jessica and her sister, Mia, stand by them, engaged in their own conversation.  
"Hey," Peej smiles at Jessica and Mia, and Chris and Phil smile a hello at us,  
"Hey Peej, Mia here was just telling me ALL about how wrong her opinion on Scruff's haircut is," Jessica says.  
"Scruff got a haircut?" PJ asks, referring to their somewhat annoying little white dog that refuses to be house-broken.  
"He went to the groomers looking like he was wrapped in shag and came back yesterday looking like rat!" Mia argues with a laugh,  
"He's adorable!" Jessica exclaims, and pulls out her phone to show us all photos,  
"Yeah… He's looking a little rat-ish," Chris laughs,  
"But he's a very cute rat-dog!" I chuckle trying to offer both my opinion and support to Jessica.

"See, Jess? Even your friends agree with me, that means I'm right," she giggles and quickly ties her pretty blonde hair into messy pony-tail as Phil hops over to kiss me on the cheek and tell me he'll see me in class because he has to see one of the deputies before the bell rings.  
"PJ, please tell me you think he's cute…" Jessica pleads,  
"He's a little bit cute," PJ admits. "He looks happier."  
"Fine," Mia says, "He's a cute, happy, little rat," she sticks her tongue out at Jessica and quickly rushes some goodbyes before running out to join the soccer match she must've spotted going on down on the front field. Within ten minutes the first bell rings and we all head off to our first lessons. I sit down in my seat and Phil's not here yet, in fact, by the time the entire class and the teacher, Mr Tacker, are all in the classroom, Phil still is not. Come on, Phil… Where are you? I open my book to all of the catch-up work I did when I was away from school and in hospital, I'm really glad I caught up on all this Shakespeare stuff, and wait for Mr Tacker to start the lesson… and then the door opens.

When I was in year five, I tripped over the garbage bin by the door and ended up falling out the classroom door in front of everyone. When I was fourteen, I tripped over my own feet and fell face-first onto the floor in front of, you guessed it, my entire class. I have a habit of drawing negative attention to myself. Every time I have to enter a classroom that's already full of students I somehow manage to mess up something as simple as walking, or on one occasion, breathing – ultimately resulting in becoming a spectacle. I have never just walked in confidently, smoothly or calmly, yet, this is exactly what the black haired boy at the front of the room has just done. He's tall, exactly six centimetres taller than me, and he walks with a confidence that I have always admired about him. He walks down the centre of the room without obtaining unnecessary attention, just another quality I envy of him, and his head is held high. He takes his seat next to me and flashes me an absolutely lovely smile, immediately pulling out two pencil cases. I once thought that was weird, but not now. It's just Phil, my Phil. He needs them both, one for his regular school pens and the other for his coloured pencils and, this time, a brand-new, blank colouring book… It's time for a fresh start, and I don't think I'm scared anymore.


End file.
